


Harry Potter and the Mirror of Erised

by 2MusicLover2



Series: ...And They Were Friends [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Books ReWritten, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts First Year, Hogwarts classes, If Harry and Draco were friends, Learning to Fly, Not all Slytherins are evil, Plotty, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Quidditch, Quidditch match, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Pride, Slytherins are people too, first year, hogwarts sorting, learning about Quidditch, mentions of arranged marriages, worried friend Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2020-07-20 05:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 63,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19987234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2MusicLover2/pseuds/2MusicLover2
Summary: What would Harry’s First Year at Hogwarts have been like if he had accepted Draco’s friendship on the Hogwarts Express? How much would change?





	1. Worries in Diagon Alley

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Universe, that all belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I’m just having a little fun playing in it.

Despite Mr. and Mrs. Dursley's many attempts to make him so, Harry Potter is not a normal boy. He is far from it, in fact, perhaps even the farthest from normal he could be. The Dursleys can’t stand it.  
  
Everything that ever goes wrong in the Dursley household is blamed on Harry. Even the things that are physically impossible for them to be his fault. Most recently, the glass disappearing on a boa constrictor's aquarium at the zoo, allowing the snake to escape. Harry was beyond confused as to why that could _possibly_ be his fault. The glass just vanished. Like magic. But it's not like Harry is a wizard.  
  
Except he is, or at least, that's what that giant, hairy man, Hagrid, told him. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon even went along with it. Of course, not until after they argued that Harry couldn't possibly be a wizard any longer as they made him live normally for so long. The entire time he was waiting to wake up and find out it had all been a dream, or to have Uncle Vernon call Harry a “bloody gullible little boy, go get the post and make sure not to burn the breakfast”.  
  
It’s hard for Harry to believe that witches and wizards are real, and apparently so are hundreds of other strange creatures Harry believed to be a myth, like dragons, which Hagrid had claimed were “severely misunderstood” and he “always wanted a dragon”. There’s so much that Harry doesn’t know about, and as Harry stands in _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ getting fitted for his school robes and talking to another wizard boy his age, he thinks that he’ll never be able to learn it all and he’ll be thrown out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for being too far behind the rest of the students.  
  
"Quidditch?" the blonde boy asks, snapping Harry out of his terror-filled thoughts.  
  
"Quidditch?" Harry repeats in an even more questioning tone than that of the boy.  
  
"Quidditch," the boy says back before breaking their one-word conversation. "Surely you know what Quidditch is. Do you play?"  
  
"Um... no," Harry answers, still just as confused as before. What in the world could Quidditch be? Has he found yet another thing he’ll have to learn before school starts on September the first?  
  
The boy frowns for a second before his smirk reappears. "Well, I do. I'm going to be on my house's team. At least, I will be after first year. Shame they won’t let us first years have a broom. Do you know what house you'll be in? _I'm_ gonna be Slytherin. Everyone in my family was. What about your family? Where were they sorted?"  
  
Harry's eyes widen in his confusion. The combination of the boy changing topics almost every sentence and the fact that Harry still can’t comprehend that he is a wizard makes it hard for him to keep up with the conversation. "I don't know."  
  
"They _are_ like us, aren't they?"  
  
"You mean, a witch and wizard?" Harry asks, and the boy nods his head in affirmation. "Yeah. They were."  
  
"Were?" the boy asks, but before Harry can respond, Madam Malkin finishes fitting Harry's robes and shoos him away.  
  
In the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, Harry looks back through the window of Madam Malkin's and sees the blond boy still inside, watching him with a curious glint in his eyes and a smirk playing on his lips. Suddenly, Harry feels himself back into something large and solid, and he turns around to see Hagrid grinning down at him, holding a snowy white owl in a cage.  
  
"There yeh are Harry! I got summat fer yeh birthday. Yeh can have pets at Hogwarts, so I got yeh an owl." Hagrid says, motioning towards the cage.  
  
Harry's eyes widen and he smiles up at the large man. "Oh- thank you, Hagrid! Thank you so much, but you didn't have to. Thank you!"  
  
"Don' mention it," Hagrid grunts out, a smile just visible through his wiry beard. "Now, come on, we need ter get yeh a wand."  
  
Harry glances back in the window of Madam Malkin's one last time, but the boy is nowhere in sight. With a shake of his head, Harry starts to follow Hagrid through the crowd, which is much easier than when Harry was alone, as the witches and wizards part to let the giant man through. Soon enough, Harry and Hagrid have arrived outside of a store with a sign reading _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC_. Upon entering the shop, Harry is met with shelves upon shelves of rectangular cases. Harry assumes there was probably some sort of order to it at one point, but now it just looks like they were shoved anyplace they would fit.  
  
"Excuse me?" Harry calls out weakly. When there isn't an answer, he calls out slightly louder, "Hello?"  
  
This time, an old man with skin almost as white as his hair comes out from somewhere in the stacks of wands. His misty eyes seem to glow when they land on Harry. "Ah, Harry Potter. I knew it was about time I would be seeing you."  
  
"I'm sorry?" Harry asks, confused as to how the man knew his name and why he was expecting him.  
  
Instead of answering, the man sees Hagrid and moves towards him. "Ah, Rubeus! It's been a while since I've seen you. Your wand was sixteen inches, oak, rather bendy, yes?"  
  
"Uh, yes," Hagrid says.  
  
"However, I suppose they snapped it when you were expelled."  
  
Hagrid ducks his head down, looking rather embarrassed. "Yeah."  
  
"A shame, that is," the man says, shaking his head before he suddenly turns back to Harry. "Now, let's get your wand, shall we? Which arm is your wand arm?"  
  
The man, who Harry now assumes to be Mr. Ollivander, takes out a tape measure and holds it up, looking at Harry expectantly.  
  
"Oh, well, uh, I'm right-handed?" Harry says, not quite sure if that's what Mr. Ollivander is asking.  
  
Mr. Ollivander then instructs Harry to hold out his right arm, and he starts measuring from his shoulder to his fingertips before going off into the stacks of wands, looking for one he thinks will be suitable. The tape measure, however, keeps measuring away. It measures different portions of Harry's arm, around his head, even between his nostrils, before Mr. Ollivander tells it to stop as he walks back.  
  
In his hands, Mr. Ollivander holds a slender, dark red case, in which lies an elegant looking wand with engravings of leaves spiraling their way around the sides. "Let's try this one. Beechwood with a dragon heartstring core, nine inches, nice and flexible. Try it out, give it a little wave."  
  
Harry takes it, but before he can even begin to move it through the air, Mr. Ollivander snatches it back.  
  
"No, no, not that one," Mr. Ollivander mumbles as he hurries away. It's not long before he returns with another wand. "How about this? Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, quite springy."  
  
This time, Harry brings the wand swishing down through the air, but when the end result is a vase shattering and several wand cases flying around the room, Mr. Ollivander, again, takes the wand away.  
  
Again and again, Mr. Ollivander hands Harry a wand, seeming more delighted each time, and again and again he takes the wand away from Harry, barely even letting him test it out.  
  
It seems like a miracle when something finally happens and Harry realizes what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for.  
  
"I wonder if maybe... here, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. Try it out."  
  
Harry doesn't even have to try it out, however. As soon as the wand is in his hand he feels a comforting warmth shoot from his fingertips up his arm and throughout his body. When Harry waves it a little, red sparks spray from the wand tip as if they are fireworks celebrating the wand having finally claimed Harry. Harry smiles down at the wand, feeling triumphant and elated that he had finally found one. Hagrid also seems excited, letting out a loud whooping noise which startles Harry's new owl as well as Harry and Mr. Ollivander.  
  
Mr. Ollivander continues to smile, however, now he mumbles, "Curious... curious... how very curious," as he puts Harry's wand back in its box and wraps it in brown paper.  
  
Harry's smile slips from his face, quickly replaced by a confused expression. "I'm sorry, but what's curious?"

"It's curious that this wand has chosen you. It chose you when it's brother chose the one who tried to kill you."  
  
Harry's confusion only deepens. "What do you mean? It's brother?"  
  
"This wand was made with Phoenix feather core. The Phoenix whose tail that feather came from has only ever given one other feather. The wand made with that feather chose You-Know-Who all those years ago. It was with that wand that he gave you that scar on your forehead. It is curious that this wand has chosen you, that you are destined for this wand, when it's brother gave you that scar."

Harry looks down at the wand, now in its case and wrapped in brown parcel paper, and he remembers that green flash of light that he now knows was from the spell that killed his parents. He feels something strange that he can't quite place, but it's gone almost as quickly as it had come, and Hagrid takes the parcel from him as he digs in his pockets to bring out his wizard money to pay Mr. Ollivander for the wand.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Harry mumbles out as he and Hagrid leave the shop with a jingle of the bells hanging above the door.  
  
Back amongst the crowds of Diagon Alley, Harry follows Hagrid through the Leaky Cauldron and back out into Muggle London. Harry stays silent, sorting through his thoughts, until finally he decides to start asking Hagrid about everything that's been worrying him while they eat burgers in a small diner while waiting for their train back to the Dursleys’.  
  
"Hagrid," Harry starts, still trying to decide which question he should start with. Finally, he settles on asking one of the simpler questions floating through his brain: "What's Quidditch?"  
  
"Blimey, Harry! I keep forgettin' you don' know abou' the Wizardin' World!" Hagrid exclaims after dropping his burger. The few people in the diner with them turn to give them curious looks, but they quickly seem to get bored and look away. "Quidditch is on'y the mos' popular sport to witches an' wizards. You go' fourteen players, all flyin' on broomsticks, tryin' to score points by gettin' a ball through one o' the three hoops on either side o' the field, while also tryin' to catch the Snitch. I can' really explain it tha' well, you'd be better off jus' watchin' it."  
  
"Oh," Harry says, feeling slightly upset that he didn't know about the most popular sport in the Wizarding World. "What about houses, and sorting? What does that mean?"  
  
"Well, when yeh firs' get to Hogwarts, yeh'll be sorted into one o' the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Wha' house yer in will decide yer class schedule an' yeh'll live with the other studen's in yer house. It's like yer family at Hogwarts, yer house is,” Hagrid replies, then, seeing the fear in Harry’s face and realizing that Harry is worried about the sorting, Hagrid adds, “but don’ worry, the sorting is more of a personality test than anythin’.”

Relieved, Harry relaxes his shoulders that he didn’t quite notice were so tensed. “What house were you sorted into?” Harry asks.

“Gryffindor. Same as Dumbledore,” Hagrid says proudly, puffing out his chest slightly when he adds, “The house o’ the brave. Yer parents were both in Gryffindor, too.”

Harry smiles at that, feeling a surge of pride knowing his parents were brave. “I hope I’m in Gryffindor.”

“Any o’ the houses would be good, ‘cept Slytherin. I can’ imagine bein’ sorted in Slytherin.”

Harry tilts his head to the side, remembering that the boy he met in Madam Malkin’s said his entire family was in Slytherin and he wanted to be too. “What’s wrong with Slytherin?”

Hagrid’s face turns dark and he leans toward Harry conspiratiorially. “I don’ know of a single witch or wizard who wen’ bad who wasn’ in Slytherin. _You-Know-Who_ was in Slytherin durin’ his time at Hogwarts.”

Harry’s spine tingles and he shivers. Was that boy evil? He didn’t seem like it, but then again Harry didn’t have that long of a conversation with him. It would be impossible to tell someone’s motives from a short conversation only held to pass the time. Harry supposes he’ll just wait until he gets to Hogwarts to find out there.

“Well, would you look a’ the time!” Hagrid exclaims suddenly and Harry’s attention snaps from his thoughts to the clock on the wall of the diner. “It’s abou’ time we head fer yer train back to the Dursleys’!”

Just like that, Harry’s mood drops. Another month with the Dursleys before he gets to go to Hogwarts, before he gets to be part of the magical world again.

“Don’ worry, i’s on’y a month before yeh start school. I remember I was ready teh start righ’ away, too,” Hagrid says merrily as he pats Harry on the back, misinterpreting Harry’s sudden sadness. Harry doesn’t bother to correct him, however, and instead helps Hagrid count out the money to pay for the meal when the waitress comes to give them their check.

All the way back to the Dursleys’, Harry and Hagrid endure strange looks from the other passengers, directed mostly at the owl, but also at the overlarge man and the many oddly-shaped parcels. Harry doesn’t quite notice, as he is too busy worrying about what will happen at school. He has never fit in at school before, Dudley and his gang made sure of that, but with him not knowing a thing about the Wizarding World... he doubts he will ever get to find out what it _is_ like to fit in.

Luckily, for the rest of his summer holidays, the Dursleys take to ignoring Harry, which allows him to read through some of his books in order to prepare. It doesn’t do much good, unfortunately, as Harry quickly becomes confused and has to put his books down frequently, allowing himself a short break to try and process whatever information he has just read. The downside to this is that the more breaks he takes, the more worried he becomes about the start of term.

And then, it is only the day before term starts when he remembers he would have to _get_ to Hogwarts before he’d even have to worry about being thrown out. He racks his brain for what Hagrid had said he would have to do, when he finally finds a train ticket mixed in among his school things. A train ticket leaving from London. Harry quickly goes downstairs and finds Uncle Vernon sitting in front of the television set, watching his favorite evening news program.

“Uh… Uncle Vernon?” Harry questions, more than slightly nervous. He is beginning to think that the Dursleys had all gone deaf and blind to his presence until finally Uncle Vernon gives a grunt to show he is listening. “Um… I was wondering if you could take me to London tomorrow? It’s just that... I need to catch a train at 11 o’clock in order to get to school.”

It takes another moment for Harry’s uncle to answer.

“Whatever, boy. We’re going to London tomorrow anyways for Dudley to get that bloody tail removed.”

Harry’s heart leaps as he makes his way back upstairs. That’s one problem out of the way. Now he can worry about how much he doesn’t know about being a wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been an idea of mine for a really long time and I’ve finally been able to make it happen.
> 
> Just a forewarning, updates will be slow because even though this will end up being very non-canonical, I want to make it as canon as possible so I’m currently in the middle of re-reading all of the books. Like, seriously, I have a spreadsheet of known Hogwarts class times and all of the unknown ones I’m trying to fit in so none of the teachers have to use time-turners and it makes as much sense as possible. You also would not believe how much digging around I had to do in order to find out what Hagrid’s house was.
> 
> I still have one more chapter that I can write before I finish re-reading, so there will be that, but again, updates will slow, probably be either every couple of weeks or maybe once a month. Don’t worry about this fic never being completed either, because I am putting way to much energy in this to give it up and I have been wanting to write it for years.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! I know it’s not that far in right now, but it’ll get better next chapter. Next chapter will be about twice as long as this one and it will really kick off the story then, so watch out for updates! Thanks for reading my ramblings this far! I love you guys!  
> -2MusicLover2
> 
> Edited for typos: March 31, 2020


	2. Welcome to Hogwarts

Harry swallows down the bile rising in his throat when the Dursleys laugh as they walk away from him standing at the barrier between platforms nine and ten at the train station. Uncle Vernon had been eager to take Harry to the station once Harry had told him he needed to get on the train at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He had even helped Harry load all of his luggage into a trolley and steered it towards where Harry was now standing, lost and confused, and cleverly pointed out “See, boy. There’s Platform Nine and there’s Platform Ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle of them but it seems as though they haven’t built it yet. Have fun at your  _ school _ !” and then the family walked away, leaving Harry all alone and helpless.

“Excuse me sir, but, could you tell me where Platform Nine and Three Quarters is? I’m a little lost,” Harry asks the station guard while trying desperately to not show how panicked he actually is.

The station guard laughs at him and replies in a condescending tone that there is no such thing.

“Well, how about the train that leaves at 11 o’clock? Where is that at?”

“Think you’re funny, do you?” the station guard asks, now irritated. “There is no train that leaves at 11 o’clock and there is no such thing as Platform  _ Nine and Three Quarters _ . Now, I don’t have time for this funny business so run along, please.”

Harry sits down on a bench and is just about to give up hope when he hears a woman say something that makes him perk up.

“...packed with muggles of course. Hurry along now, we don’t want to miss the train.”

Harry jumps up and steers his trolley towards the plump, middle-aged woman who had spoken to several children all with the same bright red hair as her. He watches first as the oldest looking boy, who the woman called Percy, runs his trolley straight into the barrier between platforms Nine and Ten. Before Harry can see what happens to the boy, a swarm of tourists blocks his view and by the time the last of them has cleared away the boy is gone.

“Fred, you next.”

“I’m not Fred, I’m George!” exclaims the boy the woman had motioned towards next. “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother.”

“Oh, I’m sorry George, dear,” the woman sighs.

Right before the boy sets off, he says “Only joking, I am Fred,” and then disappears, his twin not far behind him.

Harry’s eyes widen and he hurries towards the remainder of the family.

“Uh… excuse me ma’am, but I’m trying to get to Hogwarts and I don’t know how…” Harry starts, not quite sure how to phrase it.

“How to get onto the platform? That’s okay dear, it’s Ron here’s first time at Hogwarts as well,” she says, motioning towards the boy still standing with her. “All you have to do is walk straight into the barrier between the platforms. Make sure not to stop or be afraid of crashing into it. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous.”

Harry looks at Ron, who gives him an encouraging nod, before he lines himself up with the barrier and, taking a deep breath, he starts running at the stone wall. When he is almost a foot away, he closes his eyes. Instead of crashing like he expected, Harry opens his eyes seconds later to find a gleaming red steam engine waiting next to the crowded platform as students load onto it and their parents call and wave their goodbyes to them. Looking up, Harry sees a sign that reads  _ Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock _ , and he smiles.

He pushes his luggage down the platform in search of an empty seat. All around Harry is a bustle of commotion, with students hanging out of the windows to say their last goodbyes to their families, some fighting over their seats. One boy says in an almost hysterical voice “Gran, I’ve lost my toad again!” and his grandmother sighs, while a small crowd shrieks as another boy lifts the lid of a box and a long hairy leg pokes out.

Finally, Harry finds an empty compartment and he loads his owl, who he had decidedly named Hedwig after someone he had read about in one of his school books, into the seat and then goes back to try and heave his luggage onto the train. After a few minutes of struggling, he drops the heavy trunk on his foot and yelps in pain.

“Need any help?”

Harry looks up, startled, and sees the red-haired twins who had gone through the barrier just before him. “Yes, please,” he says when he finally manages to catch his breath.

With the three boys working together, the twins pushing and Harry pulling, they manage to get the trunk onto the train and tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

“Thanks,” Harry breathes out as he pushes his hair out of his eyes in an attempt to cool off.

“Woah. Is that—are you—?” one of the twins says, pointing at the lightning shaped scar on Harry’s forehead.

“He is!” the other twin says, amazed. “Aren’t you?”

Harry looks at them curiously. “Am I what?”

The twins exchange looks with each other before they say together “Harry Potter!”

“Oh, yeah, him—I mean… yes, I am.”

“Wicked,” the twins say together again, and Harry feels his face heating up, no doubt turning red.

Harry’s relief is almost palpable when the voice of the kind woman floats through the window, saying “Fred? George? Is that you?”

The twins head back onto the platform with a little wave at Harry and one of them calls back “Coming, mum!”

Through the window, Harry watches as the woman tries to scrub dirt off the end of Ron’s nose, much to his dismay, and the twins tease him. The oldest boy, Percy, walks back over to the rest of the family and puffs out his chest, showing off a glittering silver badge with the letter ‘P’ on it.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay too long, Mother. The prefects have got two compartments to themselves up front and I—”

“Are you really a prefect, Percy?” one of the twins cuts him off.

“We had no idea, you should have said something!” the other chimes in.

The first twin grins at his brother and says “Hang on a minute, I think he might have mentioned it once—”

“Or twice—”

“A minute—”

“All summer—”

“Oh, shut up,” Percy says, rolling his eyes at the twins. He accepts a kiss on the cheek from his mother before he leaves.

One of the twins sticks their tongue out at his back while the other whines “How come Percy got new robes?”

“Because Percy is a prefect. Maybe you could be prefects too if you didn’t spend your year blowing up toilets or—”

“Blowing up toilets? We’ve never blown up a toilet.”

“Thanks for the idea though, Mum!”

Harry can’t help but laugh, especially when the train whistle blows and the twins and Ron board the train, calling out the window “Don’t be upset, Ginny! We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!”

Harry is still laughing when the twins and Ron come into his compartment.

“We never introduced ourselves, did we, Harry? I’m Fred—”

“And I’m George Weasley. This is our little brother Ron. Fred and I are going to go down to the middle of the train—”

“Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there—”

“See you, Harry!”

And then it’s just Harry and Ron left. Ron’s freckled face is quickly being taken over by a blush. “Could I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry replies and Ron takes the seat across from him. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Fred and George said—Are you really? Do you have the—” Ron asks, pointing at Harry’s forehead.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry says, lifting his hair to show his scar.

Ron stares at Harry for a few moments, uttering a sort of breathless “Wow,” before he quickly turns to look out the window, probably realizing how much time he had spent staring.

Harry, desperate for something to say and finding Ron just as Ron finds him, asks “Are all of your family wizards?”

“I think so,” Ron says, seeming to think about it. “I believe Mum has a second cousin that is an accountant, but that’s it. We don’t really talk about him so I don’t know. I heard you live with Muggles, what’s that like?”

“Well, the Dursleys aren’t really anything to go by, they’re horrible. Not all Muggles are though. I would much rather grow up with three wizard brothers.”

“I’ve got five. I’m the sixth to go to Hogwarts so I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left—Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was Quidditch Captain. Percy just became a prefect, and even though Fred and George mess around a lot they still get really good marks. I’m expected to do just as good as all of my brothers, but even if I do they did it first so it doesn’t matter. I never get new things either. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat,” Ron rants, pulling a fat gray rat out of his jacket at the end. “His name is Scabbers. He’s completely useless and hardly ever even wakes up. When Percy became prefect, Dad got him an owl, but they couldn’t aff—I got Scabbers instead.”

Ron turns back to the window, seeming to think that he had said to much, so Harry tries to make him feel better.

“With the Dursleys, I never knew I had any money until about a month ago. They always made me wear my cousin Dudley’s old clothes which were way too big and I never really got any presents. And until Hagrid told me, I didn’t even know that I’m a wizard or what had actually happened to my parents or about Voldemort.”

“You said the name!” Ron gasps, his hands flying to his mouth in shock.

“I’m not trying to be brave or anything, I just never knew you shouldn’t say it. I’ve got loads to learn, I bet I’m the worst in the class,” Harry groans, slumping back in his seat.

“Nah,” Ron says. “Loads of people come from Muggle families and don’t have any trouble learning it all. You’ll be fine.”

Just then, a smiling woman pushing a trolley slides open the door to their compartment and asks “Anything off the trolley, dears?”

Harry, who had never had any money before and is itching to spend the gold, silver, and bronze coins in his pockets, asks the woman for all of the Mars Bars she had. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have any, but instead she offers him Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and an assortment of other sweets Harry had never heard of before. In order not to miss out on anything, Harry asks for some of everything, resulting in their compartment seats being littered with sweets and Harry being down eleven Sickles and seven Knuts.

“Hungry?” Ron asks, eyeing the armful of sweets as Harry dumps it onto the seat next to him.

“Oh, I’m starving!” Harry says as he tries his first bite of a Pumpkin Pasty.

Ron, becoming hungry himself from watching Harry eat, pulls out a rather lumpy package and unwraps it, revealing four sandwiches that he crinkles his nose at. “Mum, always forgets I like corned beef.”

“Go on, have a pasty,” Harry goads, eager to share with his new friend. After a bit of persuasion, Ron gives in and moves to sit next to Harry rather than across from him, which makes it much easier for them to share the sweets as the sandwiches were completely forgotten.

“These aren’t  _ really _ frogs, are they?” Harry asks, holding up a pack of chocolate frogs.

Ron shakes his head, finishing off his Licorice Wand before saying “No. See what the card is though, I’m missing Agrippa.”

“What?”

“Oh, yeah. Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them to collect. I’ve got about five hundred, but I still haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”

Harry nods his head as he unwraps the Chocolate Frog and looks at the card to see an old man with half-moon spectacles, a long crooked nose that has no doubt been broken multiple times, and long silver hair and beard. Underneath the picture is written  _ Albus Dumbledore _ .

“So this is Dumbledore,” Harry mutters to himself as he turns over the card.

_ ALBUS DUMBLEDORE _

_ CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS _

_ Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindlewald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling. _

Harry turns the card back over to get a better look at his headmaster, but he is surprised when there is no Dumbledore in the picture. “He’s gone!” Harry exclaims.

“Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day,” Ron replies. “Can I have one?”

“Yeah, help yourself, but you know, in the Muggle world, people don’t leave their pictures.”

“Really? They don’t move at all? That’s so weird! Aw, I’ve got Morgana and I’ve already got about six of her. Do you want it, you can start collecting.”

Harry takes the card and sets it with his Dumbledore card, moving on to open up some Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“Careful with those,” Ron warns. “When they say every flavor, they  _ mean _ every flavor.” He picks up a green bean and, after eyeing it for a few moments, pops it into his mouth and almost immediately flinches in disgust. “Blech. Sprouts.”

They go on like that, taking turns trying the beans, some of which are delicious while others make their faces shrivel up as if that would make the disgusting flavor go away. When the fields outside have turned into forests and rivers, there is a knock on the door to their compartment and the boy Harry had seen crying about a lost toad on the platform comes in.

“I’m sorry,” the boy says pitifully, wiping his rounds cheeks of the tears there, “but have you seen a toad?”

“No, we haven’t, sorry,” Harry replies, feeling bad for the kid.

“He’s gone!” the boy then wails. “I’ve lost him! How does he keep getting away from me?”

“Don’t worry, he’ll turn up,” Harry tries to comfort the boy.

He just nods his head and wipes at his cheeks again as he turns to leave the compartment. “Well, if you see him…”

When the boy has gone, Ron says “Honestly, if I’d had a toad I’d lose it on purpose. Then again, I’ve got Scabbers, so I can’t really talk.” He pokes the rat as it sleeps away on his lap. “He could be dead and you couldn’t tell the difference. Yesterday I tried turning him yellow, you know, to make him more interesting, but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you.”

Ron searches around a bit for his wand and is just raising it when the door slides open again.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” the girl says as she steps inside, already in her Hogwarts robes.

Ron shakes his head at the girl’s bossy tone of voice. “No, we just told him we haven’t seen it.”

The girl, however, was paying more attention to the wand in Ron’s hand than anything he had just said. “Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it then.” She sits down across from the two boys and looks at Ron pointedly, obviously silently urging him to do the spell.

“Uh… okay,” Ron says and the cleats his throat. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”

The rat stays gray and sound asleep in Ron’s lap.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” the girl asks in a condescending sort of voice. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve only tried a few simple spells myself, just for practice, and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family is magic, I’m the first, and it was ever the surprise when I got my letter. I was very pleased, of course, it  _ is _ the finest school of witchcraft from what I’ve heard. Of course, I’ve learned all of our course books by heart, I can only hope that will be enough. I’m Hermione Granger, by the way. Who are you?”

From the shocked look on Ron’s face, was can tell that he wasn’t the only one that didn’t learn all of the course books by heart.

“Ron Weasley,” Ron replies.

“Harry Potter,” says Harry.

“Are you really?” Hermione asks, seemingly intrigued. “I’ve read all about you, of course. I’ve gotten a few extra books for background reading and you’re in  _ Modern Magical History _ and  _ The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _ and  _ Great Wizardibg Events of the Twentieth Century _ .”

“I am?”

“You didn’t know? If it was me, I would have found out everything I could. Well, do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, that was Dumbledore’s house, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. Anyway, I better go off to look for Neville’s toad some more. You two should change, I expect we’ll be arriving soon.”

And then she was gone, leaving Harry and Ron both feeling a little dazed by her fast speaking.

“I don’t care what house I’m in as long as she’s not in it,” Ron says as he throws his wand back into his trunk.

“What house are your brothers in?” Harry asks.

“Gryffindor. All of them. Mum and Dad were in it, too. I can’t imagine their reactions if I’m not in it, although I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad. Slytherin would be terrible, though.”

“Is that the house Volde—sorry, You-Know-Who was in?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what do your older brothers do now that they’re out of Hogwarts?”

“Charlie’s off in Romania studying dragons, and Bill’s working for Gringotts in Africa. Did you hear about Gringotts? Someone tried robbing a high security vault!” Ron exclaims.

“What happened to them?” asks Harry, recalling what Hagrid had said about anyone attempting to rob Gringotts being crazy due to all of the charms on the vaults.

“Nothing. They weren’t caught. It had to have been a very powerful Dark wizard, but they didn’t even take anything. Everyone’s worried that You-Know-Who’s Behind it.”

Harry sits in stunned silence for a few minutes, thinking about this news. Sensing Harry’s sudden solemnity, Ron tries to lighten the mood.

“What’s your Quidditch team?” he asks.

“I don’t know any,” Harry answers, thankful for the change of subject, and Ron is off, explaining all of the rules and talking Harry through all of the games he’s been to with his family and describing his favorite broom, until the compartment door slides open once more.

“Is it true then?” asks one of the three boys that enter. Harry recognizes him as the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley. “Up and down the train they’re all saying that Harry Potter is in this compartment. It’s you then?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies, his eyes focused on the two very large boys flanking the blond like bodyguards.

“This is Crabbe and Goyle,” the boy says flippantly. “I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

Ron snorts. His attempt to hide it in a cough goes unnoticed as Draco shoots a glare at him.

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. Red hair, freckles, obviously poor. There’s no denying you’re a Weasley.” He turns towards Harry. “You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

And Harry hesitates as he regards the hand held out in front of him. “If I accept…” Harry says slowly and he feels Ron’s glare but ignores it. “If I accept your friendship, that doesn’t mean you pick my friends. I’ll be friends with whoever I want and you have to be nice to them.”

Draco’s cheeks tinge slightly pink and he retracts his hand slightly before he sticks it back out again. “Deal.”

Both boys give slight smiles as they shake hands, and then Harry offers for Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle to sit in the compartment with them and the three sit down, somewhat awkwardly.

Just as Harry is about to say something, Goyle screams and holds up his hand. Scabbers the rat had bit his finger and he dangles there as Goyle waves his hand around trying to fling the rat off. Scabbers stays on, however, his sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle’s knuckle. It’s not until Goyle swings his arm and the rat hits the window and falls off, seemingly unconscious, and Goyle runs out of the compartment screaming. Crabbe, who had been helping him try to pry the rat off, is not far behind him.

“I think he’s unconscious,” Ron says as he picks Scabbers up by his tail. “No, I can’t believe it—he’s gone back to sleep!”

“That’s some rat you’ve got there, Weasley,” Draco says amusedly.

Ron gives him what could be a smile but looks a little pained. “Uh, thanks, I guess.” All three boys look around the compartment, their eyes landing everywhere but on each other. “So, uh, what house are you hoping for, Draco?”

“Slytherin.”

“Oh,” Ron replies, his face contorting in obvious disgust.

Draco crosses his arms. “It’s not as bad as people make it out to be. Not everyone in Slytherin is a Dark wizard and not every Dark wizard is in Slytherin.” Ron doesn’t seem to change his mind and Draco goes on to prove his point. “Merlin himself was in Slytherin. He wasn’t a Dark wizard. I’m guessing you want Gryffindor. Sirius Black was in Gryffindor and he went Dark. See, Slytherin being the house of Dark wizards is just something made up by the other houses to make everyone hate Slytherin.”

Harry looks from side to side. Ron and Draco are both glaring at each other and Harry really wishes he wasn’t in the middle of it. Luckily, Hermione Granger comes into the compartment one more time.

“You’d better hurry up and put your robes on. I’ve just been up to speak to the conductor and he says we’re nearly there. You’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way,” she says, looking at Ron pointedly before she’s gone again.

Looking outside, Harry sees that it is getting dark out and, sure enough, the train seems to be slowing down.

“I’m going to go find Crabbe and Goyle. I’ll see you later,” Draco says. He and Harry both nod at each other before Draco leaves.

“What’d you go and accept his friendship for?” Ron asks when the compartment door is shut again.

Harry shrugs. “I don’t really know. It just seemed like something I had to do.”

Ron gives Harry an incredulous look and Harry shrugs again before they start changing.

An authoritative voice echoes all down the train just as they are finishing. “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

Harry and Ron give each other nervous looks as they fill their pockets with the last of their sweets and step out into the already crowded corridor. Finally, the train comes to a stop, and the line of students push each other out onto the platform.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” Harry hears a familiar voice call, and he smiles when he sees Hagrid. “All righ’ there, Harry?”

“Yeah!” Harry calls back over the sea of heads.

“Any more firs’ years? No? C’mon, follow me! Mind yer step! Firs’ years follow me!”

“You know him?”

Harry jumps and looks to his right to see Draco standing next to him, Crabbe and Goyle looking like lost puppies trailing after him.

“Yeah, he brought me to Diagon Alley,” Harry replies.

The first years all stay silent as they continue on their walk, too focused on not slipping and falling down to say anything. Harry heard sniveling from just behind him and chances a glance back to see Neville.

“Yeh get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts jus’ round this bend here!” Hagrid calls and there is a collective ‘ooh’ when they are suddenly on the edge of a large lake with a beautiful castle perched atop a mountain on the other side. “No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid says. Ron, Harry, Draco, and Neville all climb into one of the boats together. “Everyone in? Right then—FORWARD!”

Without so much as a lurch, the fleet of boats starts gliding across the smooth lake. Everyone stares silently up at the castle towering on the cliff above them. When they reach the cliff, Hagrid instructs for them all to keep their heads down, and they do just that as the pass through a dark tunnel until they reach a small harbor on the other side and exit the boats as Hagrid checks them.

“Oh, you there—is this your toad?” Hagrid asks, and Neville runs up to take his pet out of Hagrid’s large hands.

“Trevor!” he cries happily as he clutches the toad to his chest.

Then, they all follow Hagrid and his lamp, clambering up the rock on a kind of passageway towards the castle, until the finally make it onto the smooth, damp grass and then up a flight of stone steps and through a large, oak door where they are greeted by a strict-looking woman wearing emerald green robes.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid says.

The woman, Professor McGonagall, nods her head in thanks at Hagrid. “Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here,” she says, and once again, they are all speechless as they follow her across the stone floor of the entrance hall, and into a small, empty chamber.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall says. “The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you’re at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

Harry tries to swallow as she leaves, but he feels a lump get stuck in his throat. It goes away, however, when he jumps because about twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall, all immersed in their conversation and not noticing the students.

A ghost that appears to be a fat little monk is saying “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—”

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?”

The first years all seem too terrified to answer.

“New students! About to be Sorted, I suppose?” the Fat Friar says, smiling around at them all. When a couple of students nod, he says “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know.”

“Move sling now,” says a sharp voice, and everyone turns to see Professor McGonagall has returned. Once all of the ghosts are gone, she tells the students “Now, form a line and follow me.”

With Draco in front of him and Ron behind him, Harry gets into line and walks out of the chamber, back across the entrance hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Thousands upon thousands of candles float in midair over four long tables where the rest of the school is already sitting and at the opposite end of the hall is a fifth long table where all of the teachers are sitting. Professor McGonagall leads them so they are standing in a line in front of the teachers’ table, facing the students. To avoid looking at all of the faces staring back at him, Harry looks up to see that the ceiling is velvety black and dotted with stars.

He hears Hermione whisper “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in  _ Hogwarts, A History _ .”

When Harry looks back down, Professor McGonagall is setting a four-legged still in front of the first years, a ragged, old wizard’s hat sitting on top of the stool. Suddenly, a rip near the brim of the hat opens wide and it starts to sing.

“ _ Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, _

_ But don’t judge on what you see, _

_ I’ll eat myself if you can find _

_ A smarter hat than me. _

_ You can keep you bowlers black, _

_ Your top hats tall, _

_ For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat _

_ And I can cap them all. _

_ There’s nothing hidden in your head _

_ The Sorting Hat can’t see, _

_ So try me on and I will tell you _

_ Where you ought to be. _

_ You might belong in Gryffindor, _

_ Where dwell the brave at heart, _

_ Their daring, nerve, and chivalry _

_ Set Gryffindors apart; _

_ You might belong in Hufflepuff, _

_ Where they are just and loyal, _

_ Those patient Hufflepuffs are true _

_ And unafraid of toil; _

_ Or yet in wise, old Ravenclaw, _

_ If you’ve a ready mind, _

_ Where those of wit and learning _

_ Will always find their kind; _

_ Or perhaps in Slytherin _

_ You’ll make your real friends, _

_ Those cunning folks use any means _

_ To achieve their ends. _

_ So put me on! Don’t be afraid! _

_ And don’t get in a flap! _

_ You’re in safe hands (though I have none) _

_ For I’m a Thinking Cap! _ ”

Everyone bursts into applause as the hat bows to each of the four tables at the end of its song and then becomes still again.

“When I call your name,” Professor McGonagall says, now holding a long scroll of parchment, “you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!”

Harry zones out, his nerves not quite letting him pay attention to anything until he hears a name he recognizes.

“Granger, Hermione!” Professor McGonagall says, and Hermione eagerly goes to the stool and put the hat on her head.

The hat shouts “GRYFFINDOR!” and Ron groans next to Harry as she joins the table on the far left, which is clapping the loudest.

It’s not long after that that Draco’s name gets called and Harry watches as the hat barely touches his head before calling out “SLYTHERIN!”

Harry starts to panic then.  _ What if the hat doesn’t put him in a house at all? What if he gets sent home because he sits there for ages until Professor McGonagall takes the hat off his head and tells him there’s been a mistake? _

“Potter, Harry!” Professor McGonagall finally calls and Ron nudges Harry forward.

Harry doesn’t quite feel like himself as he sits down on the stool and puts the hat on his head.

“Hmm,” a small voice says into Harry’s ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad min either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting. So where shall I put you?”

Harry grips the stool and finds himself thinking of all the times he used magic. When he grew his hair back overnight, dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut the next day; when he shrunk that hideous sweater as Aunt Petunia tried to fit it over Harry’s head; when he ended up on the school roof while trying to get away from Dudley’s gang; when he vanished the glass of the python’s enclosure at the zoo and it chased Dudley around.

“Ah…” the hat says into Harry’s ear, and Harry realizes it is reading his mind. “Yes, yes. I know… you should be… SLYTHERIN!”

The hat shouts his house out loud and Harry takes it off his head, walking over to join Draco at the Slytherin table, which is the only table cheering. Harry feels everyone’s eyes watching him as he sits down and gives his new housemates a small smile. Once he sits down, his nerves are barely there, and he is able to enjoy the rest of the Sorting, cheering as other first years join him at the Slytherin table and also cheering for Ron, who sends Harry a thumbs up as he joins the Gryffindor table.

The last student to be sorted is “Zabini, Blaise” who is put in Slytherin and takes the seat next to Harry as Professor McGonagall rolls up her scroll and takes the Sorting Hat and the stool away.

Up at the high table, Albus Dumbledore, whom Harry recognizes from his Chocolate Frog card, stands up, his arms open wide as he beams at the students.

“Welcome,” he says. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

“Thank you!”

And then he sits back down as everyone claps and cheers.

“Father always said Dumbledore was mad,” Draco says from Harry’s left.

“I heard he’s a great wizard, though,” Harry replies.

“I suppose so.”

The empty golden plates and goblets suddenly fill up with an assortment of food, which Harry piles onto his plate. He had never seen so many things he liked on a single table.

After lots of eating and friendly conversation, Harry finally feels full, and he looks back up at the high table where he sees the teachers all talking amongst themselves. His eyes are automatically drawn to Professor Quirrell, whom he had met in Diagon Alley, and his absurd turban. Talking to Quirrell is a man with greasy black hair and a hooked nose. Just as Harry and this teacher make eye contact, Harry clamps a hand to his forehead.

“Are you okay?” the girl sitting across from Harry, Pansy Parkinson, asks with concern.

“Yeah, it’s fine now,” Harry replies, and it’s not a lie—the pain really is gone, just as quick as it had come. “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?”

Draco looks in the direction Harry as nodded his head and says “That’s Professor Snape. He’s our Head of House and the Potions Master. How do you know who he’s talking to?”

“I met him in Diagon Alley.”

Professor Dumbledore stands up again and the hall falls silent.

“Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Harry is one of the few who laugh.

“He’s not serious?” Harry asks.

“Let’s not find out, yeah?” says Blaise.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Dumbledore says ecstatically, and Harry notices that the teachers smiles seem to have become rather fixed. “Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!”

Dumbledore flicks his wand and a golden ribbon flies out, twisting into words in the air that the school bellows out.

“ _ Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, _

_ Teach us something, please, _

_ Whether we be old and bald _

_ Or young with scabby knees, _

_ Our heads could do with filling _

_ With some interesting stuff, _

_ For now they’re bare and full of air, _

_ Dead flies and bits of fluff, _

_ So teach us things worth knowing, _

_ Bring back what we’ve forgot, _

_ Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, _

_ And learn until our brains all rot! _ ”

Everyone finishes singing at different times, until at last only the Weasley twins are left singing along to a very slow funeral march as Dumbledore conducts their last few lines.

“Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Harry stands up and follows the Slytherin prefects as they lead the first years out of the Great Hall, down a stone staircase and through the stone corridors until they finally stop at a stretch of bare yet damp stone wall.

“This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room,” one of the prefects announces. “In order to get in, you just have to say the password, which will change every fortnight. The new password will be posted on the notice board in the common room. For now, the password is ‘Salazar’,” one of the prefects explains and a door hidden in the stone that Harry hadn’t noticed until now slides open.

Inside the Slytherin common room is somehow cozy to Harry, despite the stone walls and the green light that bathes the room from the lake that can be viewed through a giant window at one end. An elaborately carved mantelpiece somehow provides the entire room with the perfect amount of warmth, which makes Harry believe it is bewitched. Throughout the common room is a number of fancy yet comfortable looking black and green chairs that a number of the older students are already sitting on, chatting away about their summer holidays.

“Through the hall on the left are the boys dorms, the girls are through the hall on the right. All of your things should have already been brought in for you. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me,” the prefect says before she leaves them to explore the common room and their dorms as they wish before bed.

With one final look around the common room, Harry heads down the hall on the left until he finds a door marked by a plaque reading ‘ _ First Years _ ’ in a fancy scrawl. Harry isn’t the only first year who seems to be ready to go to bed already, as the rest of his fellow first year boys are not far behind him as he opens the door to their dorm revealing six four-poster beds made up with green blankets and draped in matching green curtains. All of the boys seem too tired to do much talking as they quietly pull on their pajamas and each choose a bed to climb into, and Harry falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my goal for the length of this chapter was 5,000 words but I got a little carried away and also decided to keep writing this instead of doing my summer homework for AP Lit, so now it’s a little over 6,600. Oh well.
> 
> A lot of the dialogue in this chapter was taken almost directly from the book, but it was necessary for the plot and this will be the only chapter that does that so please don’t sue me.
> 
> I enjoy comments and kudos are always appreciated! Thanks for reading, a new chapter should be up in a few weeks!


	3. The Famous Harry Potter

When he was living with the Dursleys, Harry had been used to getting up early. The difference from Hogwarts is that at the Dursleys’, Harry was the first one up. Now, as Harry wakes up in his dorm room, he is slightly startled to see the amount of commotion going on around him. Crabbe and Goyle seem to be the only two still asleep, and Harry is glad he had woken up before them because Draco is currently hitting them with a pillow in an attempt to wake them.

“Ah, the Chosen One awakes,” a bored sounding voice drawls and Harry looks at the door to the en-suite bathroom to see a fully dressed Blaise walking out as Theodore Nott edges past him with his robes bundled in his arms to change in the bathroom.

“Oh, good,” Draco says and Harry looks back to his right to see that Draco had given up his pillow approach and is now sitting on top of Crabbe as he bounces up and down. “Help me wake these two oafs, would you?”

“Now, now, Draco. Don’t scare him off quite yet. You forget poor Harry isn’t used to your… you,” Blaise says in the same bored tone before he turns to Harry again. “Sorry about him. He can get a little excitable in the mornings—” Draco scoffs “—but he mellows out after breakfast. Normally. If he doesn’t, just flick him in the ear when he’s being annoying. That seems to work for me.”

Harry isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Do all of the Slytherins already know each other so well? Does he have to worry about them flicking him for being annoying? Will he be able to sleep in without worrying about Draco jumping on him?

“Uh… okay,” Harry manages to get out and Blaise flashes a smile at him, completely ignoring the scowl Draco is giving him from his perch atop a now grumbling Crabbe.

“You’re just jealous that Harry already agreed to be my friend but he’s not yours,” Draco says.

Crabbe finally sits up and Draco yelps as he falls off of the boy and onto the floor.

Blaise raises a single eyebrow at the blond and an amused look settles on his face. “You’ve caught me. I’ll just forever be jealous of you, Draco. After meeting you, how could anyone want to be friends with the likes of me?”

Not quite wanting to witness whatever dramatics ensues, Harry quickly gathers his robes from where they had been sitting, neatly folded, next to his bed and makes his way into the bathroom which Theodore had just exited.

Through the door, Harry can still hear the muffled conversation of Blaise and Draco, and even after he finishes showering and changing, he waits in the bathroom to avoid the two boys. Unfortunately, he is forced to leave when someone knocks on the door.

Draco’s scowl transforms into a grin when he sees Harry leave the bathroom. “Breakfast?” he asks, altogether too cheery. Harry doesn’t get a chance to respond because Draco grabs his wrist and starts pulling him along, out of the dorm and through the green-hued common room, not letting go until they are in the cold, stone halls of the dungeons. “Do you remember how to get to the Great Hall?”

Harry shuffles his feet awkwardly and looks at the halls around them. It all looks the same, he doesn’t even know which way to go. “Uh… no,” he says.

Draco purses his lips for a second before he faces the wall again, says “Salazar,” and marches back into the common room where they stand next to the entrance until a couple of upper years come along. By the time that happens, however, Blaise and Theodore as well as Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode have joined the two boys in their wait to find someone who can keep them from getting lost.

“Is there a reason we’re just standing here?” Pansy asks as she and Millicent join the four boys that had gathered by the common room entrance.

Blaise looks pointedly at the group of fourth years leaving the common room and starts following them. “We were waiting for someone who could lead the way to the Great Hall,” he explains as they walk through the corridors following the fourth years from a respectable distance.

Before long, they have arrived in the Great Hall and sit eating from an assortment of breakfast foods available to them before suddenly there is a great flurry of commotion and everyone looks up to see hundreds of owls swooping down upon the tables, all carrying letters and parcels for the students to whom they belong. Harry startles when a spectacular eagle owl flies towards him, only to swerve gracefully at the last second and perch itself on Draco’s shoulder, who hastily starts pulling at the string tying the parcel to the great bird’s leg.

“Excellent,” he exclaims when he finally unwraps his mail to find a box full of assorted sweets with a letter folded neatly on top of it all.

Harry busies himself with eating his food as Draco reads the letter and then announces that the sweets are a congratulations to them all for making Slytherin house and his mother hopes they all enjoy them, which earns a collective “Thank you, Narcissa!” from the group before they all dig in and start divvying up the sweets between them.

Draco throws a chocolate frog at Harry, which makes the boy smile. “Come on, they’re for you too. You’re in Slytherin house, are you not?”

After everyone has a somewhat equal amount of sweets and they have all signed the thank you note that Draco had written out to send home with his next letter, they see that Professor Snape is slowly making his way down the table, handing students their timetables.

“Well, if it isn’t the famous Harry Potter,” he says when he makes it to the group of first years sitting together chattering away excitedly. They all fall silent as they watch their Head of House watching Harry.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to respond; instead, he looks to his new friends for help and sees that they have all adopted cautious looks on their faces.

Snape scowls down at Harry as he hands him his schedule. “You’re already different from your insufferable father, Potter, being sorted into Slytherin House. Let’s just hope this difference is for the better, although I can’t imagine it is possible for you to be worse than he was.”

With that, Snape releases Harry’s schedule from his grip and stalks his way down the table, continuing in handing out schedules.

“I don’t think I like Snape all that much,” Harry says as he turns back to the table. He grumpily takes a bite of his toast before he notices his friends staring at him. “What?”

Draco shrugs. “He’s not that bad.”

“Did we just experience two different things?” Harry asks.

“Okay, so he can be a bit of a git most of the time, but that’s how he is with everyone.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “He just insulted my dad to my face.”

Blaise clasps his hand over Draco’s mouth before he can get a word in. “You’re just digging yourself deeper and deeper into a hole, mate,” he says to the blond before addressing Harry. “Snape is far from the nicest bloke you’ll ever meet. He obviously has something against your father, but he also plays favorites and you’re already up two points because you’re in his house and you’re friends with Draco. You just need to prove to him that he has no reason to be ashamed that you are a Slytherin.”

“What does being friends with Draco have to do with anything?”

Draco pulls Blaise’s hand off his mouth. “He’s already chosen his favorite for our year and it’s me, because I’m Snape’s godson. Connections mean everything in our world, and if I believe you are good enough to be my friend, Snape has to accept that and at least tolerate you. Not to mention, him appearing to not like a student from his own house won’t look good. We thrive on unity, otherwise we appear weak.”

“So does that mean I get an automatic pass in his classes?” Harry asks, hopeful that he might be able to slack off a little, but his friends just laugh.

“Hardly. If anything it means you have to work harder in his class than anything else in order to prove you belong,” Pansy replies, her words still laced with giggles.

“Don’t worry though,” Draco says. “Having the Potions Master as your godfather is brilliant. I’ve been making potions for ages now under his instruction, so if you aren’t all that great, I can just teach you.”

“It looks like we won’t have to worry about that until Friday, though,” Pansy says. “And even then our Potions class will be with the Gryffindors, so Snape’ll be too busy with them to do anything bad to you.”

Harry nods, feeling slightly better about the eventuality of having to deal with Snape, and then takes a look at his schedule. “Looks like we have an easy day today, only two classes.”

“That can’t be right,” Draco says as he picks up his own schedule and frowns. “Holly, come here. I think our schedules are wrong, we have more breaks than classes.”

A girl sitting a short ways down the table from the first years and who looks remarkably like Pansy gets up and walks towards them. She leans forward and across the table between Pansy and Millicent to grab the schedule out of Draco’s hands. “No, that’s right. First and second years get it easy. When you get to third year and you can start picking your electives, your schedule will be a lot fuller. Besides, is barely having classes really something you want to complain about?”

Draco looks offended that she’s even ask him that. “You’ve known me for how long now? In what world would I possibly want to not do a lot of work?”

“Just wait a couple years, sweetie, you’ll be drowning in your classes and I’ll be laughing at you.”

And with that, the girl hands Draco’s schedule back to him and walks back to her own friends to finish her breakfast. Draco glares after her as he violently rips bits off his pastry to eat.

“Oh, stop trying to kill my sister with your mind. If it hasn’t worked yet, it won’t work now. Just hurry up and finish eating so we can figure out where Charms is and not be late,” Pansy tells Draco.

The group of first years stands up and they all wipe any crumbs off themselves before they start walking out of the Great Hall. As they pass Holly, Draco throws his last bit of pastry at her and then grins when it lands in her hair. She lets out a frustrated scream and makes a rude hand gesture at Draco.

Harry has no idea how they got there, but he’s just sitting down at a desk with Draco in the charms classroom when the bell rings to signal the start of class. His stomach somehow feels both empty and full at the same time and he is sure his hands are sweaty. Next to him, Draco laughs and Harry jumps a little in his seat, causing the other boy to look at him with a hint of concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Harry takes in a breath and nods his head, but it doesn't seem to placate Draco as he goes on to say, “Don’t worry, I doubt we’ll be really doing anything today other than taking roll and maybe learning some theory. Nothing too extreme.”

This statement is only somewhat reassuring, however, so even though Harry nods his head again and lets out the breath he had been holding, his entire body remains tense.

“Good morning, class!” a squeaky little voice cheers, and Harry manages to focus his eyes on the front of the classroom where a tiny, older wizard stands on top of a pile of books. “My name is Professor Flitwick and with me you will be learning charms. I am also the Head of Ravenclaw house, but I don’t think that really matters to you, being Slytherins. Now, how about we take roll… Bulstrode, Millicent…”

Harry’s nerves quickly cause him to zone out. The only reason he is even able to respond when his name is called is because his attention is jerked back to the Professor when he topples off his stack of books. From the floor, Flitwick calls out “Potter, Harry!” and Harry responds with a feeble “Here!” and shrinks down into his seat. A gentle pressure on his leg causes Harry to look to his right to see Draco smiling at him, their knees pressed together in a way that is somehow comforting. Grateful for the gesture, Harry smiles back at the blond and his body relaxes just the tiniest bit.

Draco is right, and after taking roll the only other thing the class does is listen to Flitwick explains what they will be learning that year. This speech only lasts about fifteen minutes however, and then he lets them all talk amongst themselves as he wanders between groups of students, joining their conversations in order to “get to know” them better. He spends most of the class at Draco and Harry’s table where they sit talking about trivial things like when their birthdays are and what kinds of pets they’ve always wanted. Harry laughs at the face Draco makes when he reveals he’s always wanted a dragon and Harry replies that he’s just like Hagrid in that sense.

“I am going to have to ask you to kindly never compare me to that lumbering fool again,” Draco sneers as they pick up their bags and start heading to the courtyard with the rest of the first years.

“Be nice, Hagrid’s my friend too,” Harry admonishes.

Blaise lets out a single, very sarcastic sounding “Ha,” and starts walking backwards down the corridors so he can see the other two boys as he talks. “You act as if Draco is ever nice.”

Draco scoffs. “I’m nicer than you, Mr. I’ve-Never-Been-Sincere-In-My-Life.”

“One can be both sarcastic and nice.”

“Draco can be nice sometimes,” Harry interjects, not quite wanting to listen to another not-quite argument between Blaise and Draco.

“You have known him for all of a day.”

“I know. He’s been nice to me, though,” he replies.

Blaise purses his lips and regards Harry for so long that he starts to feel a little uncomfortable. Finally, he says a simple “Okay,” and turns back around.

~*~

The rest of the week goes much the same. History of Magic that afternoon is the only class in which the teacher doesn’t seem to have any reaction to having his name on their roster. In fact, Professor Binns doesn’t even get his name right, or anyone else’s name for that matter. At first Harry had thought having a ghost for a professor would be fun and interesting, but the man is even more boring than the subject he teaches. If it weren’t for the fact that the Slytherins has agreed to take turns on writing notes every class, Harry would declare it his nap time. At least that would only ever be interrupted rarely for his note day.

In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall stops in her roll call for a moment when she gets to Harry’s name. “Harry Potter…” she says eventually. “I would have thought you would be in my house like your parents, but no matter, you are your own person,” and then she moves on to the next name.

This severely dampens Harry’s mood for the rest of Tuesday. Not even McGonagall turning her desk into a pig and back again moments after finishing roll was enough to cheer him up.

Lunch that day is awkwardly silent, as any and all attempts to drag Harry into the conversation are quickly shut down by his refusal to do anything but stare moodily at his sandwich.

“If you don’t like any of your housemates, come sit at the Gryffindor table with me,” a voice behind Harry says. Harry slowly turns around to see Ron smiling down at, but his smile quickly fades when Harry doesn’t smile back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Harry says.

“He won’t tell me either. Whatever it is, it happened in Transfiguration, because he was fine until then,” says Draco.

Ron pushes his way between the Slytherins and sits down next to Harry, who just keeps eating his sandwich. “You can’t ignore us all forever. It’s gonna be a long and boring year if you try.”

“It’s nothing—stupid, really—just, McGonagall said something today and it got to me. I’m fine, I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

They do worry though. Even after Harry starts contributing to the conversation, albeit reluctantly, he can still tell they are still worrying about him. If it was only the glances they all kept exchanging with each other, he would be able to ignore it. But on their walk across the grounds to the greenhouses for Herbology, Harry overhears Blaise and Draco arguing. In the two days he’s known them, he’s come to realize this is a normal thing for the two boys, however this argument interests Harry because he is the subject of it.

“And how, exactly, do you expect me to do anything?” Blaise asks under his breath, but Harry can still hear it. “I know nothing more than what you know, you probably know more than me.”

“I don’t know, work whatever magic it is you do for everyone else when they’re acting like he is,” answers Draco, who is not being as quiet as Blaise and is the reason Harry started eavesdropping on them.

“You mean when  _ you _ get upset over something so I cast a cheering charm on you?”

“Whatever, yes, that. Do it. It’s no fun with him all sad and trying to be lonely.”

Blaise seems to consider for a moment before he replies, “I won’t just do it without his permission. Let me ask him first and then if he agrees I’ll do it.”

“Okay, fine,” Draco says. They have arrived at the greenhouses and he lowers his voice significantly so that Harry has to strain to hear what he says. “Could you see if Harry would like one, too? I don’t think he’s feeling too great about being sorted into Slytherin, everyone keeps saying stuff to him about it.”

This confuses Harry greatly, he had thought the entire argument had been about  _ him _ . It’s not as if he could ask them who they were really talking about, however, as then they would know he was eavesdropping. Harry spends the entirety of class contemplating who it could be, and he gets so lost in his thoughts that Draco has to step on his foot when Professor Sprout calls his name.

“Here!” Harry says as he glares at the blond next to him.

“Sorry, but you weren’t paying attention and she called your name for roll,” Draco whispers to him, guilt clear in his voice.

“That doesn’t mean you have to step on my foot!” Harry whispers back harshly.

“I didn’t mean to step that hard, I’m—”

“Malfoy and Potter, I will only say this once: I do not permit talking out of turn in my class. Now, as I was saying…”

~*~

Friday came as a relief to Harry. Despite not having many classes, he was still struggling with the few he did have. On top of managing his class work, which was so much different than what he was used to when he had gone to Muggle primary school growing up, Harry also had to hang out with his new friends enough that they were no longer worried about him. This was starting to prove difficult, however, as Harry had his mind on other things. No longer was Harry simply worried about what house he was sorted into. Now, Harry’s thoughts revolve around the argument he had overheard between Draco and Blaise on their way to Herbology on Tuesday, and who exactly they were talking about. Harry tried watching Blaise to see who he asked to perform a cheering charm on, but the only person he asked was Harry.

He is again lost in his thoughts, staring unblinkingly at untouched his eggs for the third time that week, when an indignant screech startles him. Looking up, Harry sees a snowy owl standing in the middle of the table, giving him an annoyed look. After a moment in which Harry blinks his eyes repeatedly to clear the blurriness from them, he realizes that the owl is actually Hedwig and she has brought him mail.

“Since when do I get mail? Who do I have to  _ send _ me mail?” he questions as he unties the letter from Hedwig’s leg. Next to him, Draco shrugs and Pansy feeds both Hedwig and Draco’s eagle owl bits of bacon.

Harry opens the letter to read the untidy scrawl of whoever had sent it to him.

_ Harry— _

_ I know first years have Friday afternoons off, so how about you come down to my hut after your classes for some lunch and you can tell me about your first week. _

_ Bring your friends if you want, _

_ Hagrid _

“Who’s it from?” Pansy asks as she breaks up some more bacon.

“Hagrid,” Harry replies. “He wants me to come down to his hut after we’ve finished with classes for the day.”

This is met with several disgusted looks from each of his friends.

“What did you do?” asks Blaise, disdain dripping from his voice.

Harry tilts his head in confusion before realizing that Draco is the only one who knows Harry is friends with Hagrid. “Nothing!” he exclaims. “Hagrid is the one who told me I’m a wizard and took me to Diagon Alley to get my school things. We’re friends. He wants me to come down and tell him about my first week of lessons. He said you guys can come too, if you want.”

Blaise purses his lips and exchanges a look with the others. “I think we’ll have to politely decline on that one. We have other engagements, and I just don’t think we’ll all fit in his… hut.”

For a moment, Harry is a little upset that he won’t have any company. Then, Draco is taking the note out of his hands and writing out a short response to send back to Hagrid.

“I’ll go with you. Can’t have you going alone, now, can we?” he says, and that’s the end of the discussion.

When the Slytherins arrive in Potions, instead of sitting politely and quietly like the rest of his house, Harry starts talking immediately, for this is the first class he’s had with Ron.

“Hi! How have your classes been so far?” Harry asks as he sits down at a table across from the redhead.

Ron gives him a contemplative look. “‘Bout as good as they can be, not like we’ve started learning any magic yet. I expect that will be when the homework will start and I am  _ not _ looking forward to that.”

“Probably. Oh! Hagrid invited me down to his hut after class today, so you want to come with me and Draco?”

Ron looks at the boy sitting next to Harry, who glares right back. “Draco is going?”

“Yeah, do you have a problem with that?” Draco says, his lip curling up into a sneer that Harry knows he only ever wears outside of the Slytherin common room and dormitories.

“Guys, please don’t fight. You’re both my friends,” Harry says. He’s just reminded himself of how often Draco and Blaise fight, which reminds him that he needs to figure out who they were going to use a cheering charm on on Tuesday.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Ron says, and then the door to the dungeon classroom slams open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally up! I feel like all I’ve been doing for the past couple of months is work on this fic, but it’s okay because I love it.
> 
> Sadly, this chapter isn’t as long as what I wanted it to be, but it’s still a decent length and I feel like if I added any more it would just be too much.
> 
> From now on, updates will be every Monday at 12pm EST, so the next chapter will be October 7th.
> 
> Check out my tumblr to get progress reports every Friday and to see what else I’ve been up to. My username is the same as ao3 (2musiclover2).
> 
> As always, kudos are appreciated and I love to know what you guys liked or didn’t like, so please comment and I will reply to every one!
> 
> I love you all, thank you so much for reading!  
> -2MusicLover2


	4. Exploding Cauldrons and House Meetings

The classroom is immediately bathed in silence.

The Gryffindors all give the greasy-haired Professor Snape looks of apprehension and fear, while the Slytherins look on in admiration as he stalks his way to the front of the class and starts calling their names off the class roster. Much to Harry’s appreciation, he didn’t even pause when he got to Harry’s name and didn’t make a single comment.

“In this class,” Snape began, “you will learn the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. Despite the lack of foolish wand-waving that will take place in this room, this is still magic. I expect very few of you to understand and appreciate the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses—I can teach how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Draco nudges Harry’s arm and smirks at him.

“Who can tell me what I would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Professor Snape asks the class.

A Gryffindor girl with extremely bushy hair who Harry vaguely recalls is named Hermione Granger shoots her hand into the air so quickly Harry briefly wonders how she didn’t break the sound barrier. Every pair of eyes in the classroom lands on the girl; that is, every pair other than Snape’s, who instead scans the portion of the classroom the Slytherins occupy, repeatedly flicking back to Draco. After a moment of staring with wide eyes at the girl, Draco puts his hand up, which cues a couple of other students to put theirs up as well.

“Malfoy,” Snape calls.

“Together, powdered root of asphodel and infusion of wormwood make the powerful sleeping draught known as the Draught of Living Death,” Draco recites as if it is a line he has had memorized for years and is entirely bored with it.

“Very good. And where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Again, Hermione’s hand shoots into the air, stretching as far as she could possibly reach without leaving her seat. Instead of calling on her, Snape nods at Draco.

“The stomach of a goat.”

Snape raises his head slightly to look down his greasy nose at the blond boy. “What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Hermione actually stands up at this, yet Snape continues to ignore her in favor of his godson.

“They are the same plant, also known as aconite.”

Harry assumes the end of this seeming interrogation would be an approving look from Snape, but the professor sneers.

“Clearly you still possess some level of intelligence. I had assumed there was a tragic accident that your father had yet to inform me of in which you injured your head and were reduced to a sniveling idiot—what other explanation could there be for your friendship with Potter?”

Draco’s face twists into a sneer to match Snape’s. “Connections to powerful figures are better made than not, and as I’m sure you would agree, Harry is a  _ very _ powerful figure in our world.”

Harry’s heart sinks. Was that all he was to Draco and the rest of the Slytherins? A powerful connection?

“Very well,” Snape says after a moment’s pause, then stalks his way back to the front of the classroom. “You will use the remainder of class to brew a potion to cure boils. The instructions are on the board—” as if an invisible hand were writing them, step-by-step instructions appeared on the chalkboard “—make sure you follow them completely and correctly. Work in pairs with whomever you are sitting next to.”

Draco is sitting next to Harry, but Harry isn’t quite sure he wants to work with Draco if the boy is just using him as a connection. Despite these reservations, Draco hadn’t been lying when he said he is a good potioneer, so Harry finds himself silently following allowing as Draco walks him through brewing the potion, making Harry complete every other step. At first, Harry worries that he will have to avoid attempts at conversation, but he quickly realizes that there is little time for that when making potions. The only things Draco says are careful explanations of what he is doing and instructions for what Harry needs to do.

“Nonono, don’t put that—” Draco’s protests aren’t cut off by a loud bang and several screams. Both boys freeze, Harry with a hand full of porcupine quills outstretched toward the cauldron between them, Draco holding tightly onto Harry’s wrist in order to keep them from dropping the ingredients. “Why did—?”

His question is cut off and answered by Snape’s furious shouts. “Idiot boy! How did you manage this? Never, in all my years…”

He was shouting at a sandy-haired Gryffindor boy who stands covered in his botched potion looking slightly ashamed. The dark-skinned boy he had been working with is also covered in the potion and both are sprouting boils that pop seconds after appearing, oozing a horrid smelling green and yellow goo.

“To Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing, both of you. And 5 points from Gryffindor for your inability to complete a simple potion.”

The two boys duck their heads as they leave the classroom. As soon as the door is shut behind them, Snape is ordering the class back to work as he waves his wand to clean the potion. “I expect you all to turn in a vial of potion that has not failed as miserably as Misters’ Finnegan and Thomas. Perhaps if you have done it right your potion could cure them.”

Draco looks at the porcupine quills in Harry’s hand then releases his grip. “Don’t add those yet, we have to take the cauldron off the fire first, otherwise the quills will react to the heat and cause the potion to become highly acidic and melt everything it touches, including the cauldron.”

Harry’s eyes widen and he sets the quills on the table while Draco takes the cauldron off of the fire. “Okay, now add two porcupine quills—” Harry picks up two quills and adds them “—and I’ll stir five times clockwise to mix them in… okay. Wave your wand to set it, but make sure you do it right, I think that’s what step Finnegan and Thomas were at when theirs exploded.”

Careful to wave his wand in the exact pattern that Draco shows him, Harry does as he is instructed. He watches as Draco pulls out a glass vial and uses a ladle to transfer some of the potion into it just as the bell signaling the end of class rings.

“There. I’ll just put our names on this and hand it into Professor Snape,” Draco says and Harry nods, already gathering up his things. When Draco gets back, he has a scowl on his face. “Snape just took points from me because I ‘gave him cheek’ when after he brought up our friendship. I can’t believe this, I’m supposed to be his favorite!” Harry makes a noncommittal noise which prompts Draco to look at him curiously before turning to Ron. “Could we meet you in the Entrance Hall to go down to Hagrid’s in about ten minutes? I want to put my bag in the dormitory.”

Ron shrugs. “I suppose. I’ll put my stuff away, too.”

“Brilliant.”

Once the boys start heading in separate directions, Ron towards Gryffindor tower and Harry and Draco towards the part of the dungeons with the Slytherin common room, Harry looks longingly after Ron. He quickly looks forward, however, when he walks right into someone who turns out to be Draco. Harry stumbles back a few steps and trains his eyes on the stone floor, refusing to look up at the hurt look in the grey eyes of the boy in front of him.

“Alright, what’s wrong? You barely spoke a word to me all class and now you’re ignoring me. Did I do something?”

Harry shifts his bag higher onto his shoulder and shuffles his feet. “It’s nothing,” he says, and Draco huffs in annoyance.

“You always say that, but it’s never nothing. One of these days I’m going to get you to talk to me without you trying to evade everything first. It’s no point since you’re just going to tell me anyway. Come on, what did I do?” When Harry refuses to answer, Draco continues. “Was it what Snape said? Because, Harry, I don’t really care what he thinks. I’m still friends with you, aren’t I? I’m still here with you.”

“It’s not what Snape said, it’s what you said to Snape. Am I really just a connection to you?” He finally looks Draco in the eyes and is startled by the desperation he sees there.

“No! You’re not just a connection to me or any of the other Slytherins you are friends with!” Draco exclaims, finally understanding. “I don’t actually think that of you. The only reason I said it is because I know Snape and I know that’s what he understands—connections and using people to push yourself farther in the world. I don’t think the man has ever had a single friend, he definitely doesn’t understand them. It’s the first thing I thought of to get him to leave you alone.”

Harry purses his lips and readjusts his bag again. “Okay,” he says.

“You don’t believe me. Why don’t you believe me?”

“I just… why should I believe you? I’ve only known you for a week, why should I trust you?”

“Actually, we met a month ago in Diagon Alley,” Draco says, his voice small and quiet, much unlike anything else he has said or done before. “I promise I’m telling you the truth.”

“Let’s just throw our stuff in the dormitory so we can head down to Hagrid’s,” says Harry as he moves around Draco and continues on his way towards the Slytherin common room, however, Draco doesn’t follow him.

“Harry, come here!” he calls.

“Ron’s waiting for us, Draco. We’ll talk more at lunch.”

Draco catches up to Harry and tries to stop him but to no avail. “I don’t want to go to Hagrid’s with you if you don’t believe that we’re friends!”

“I don’t not believe you, okay? I just need some time to get my emotions in check. We can go down to Hagrid’s and then hopefully when we get back up to the castle everything will be fine—Salazar,” Harry says, and they walk through the entrance to the Slytherin common room, not stopping until they get to their dormitory where they throw their bags down on their beds.

“So you do believe me?” Draco asks. He blocks the doorway back out into the common room which makes Harry cross his arms out of frustration with the blond.

“Yes, I believe you! Now, can we go to Hagrid’s? Only, it’s been about ten minutes already which is when you said we’d meet Ron in the Entrance Hall. He’s probably wondering where we’re at.”

Draco nods his head and moves out of the door frame before following Harry. They walk in silence all the way to the Entrance Hall, Draco walking a couple of paces behind Harry and stealing glances at him every few moments.

“Finally! What took you so long? I was beginning to think you had left without me,” Ron says when they arrive with the rest of the crowd queuing up for lunch.

Draco assumes he will have to rescue Harry and come up with some excuse, but Harry beats him to it.

“Peeves filled the corridor that we usually take with chairs and tables, so we had to turn around and it took us a while to find a new way. We were just about to give up and come right back here when we found our way,” Harry says, just as smoothly as if it had actually happened.

“Filch isn’t going to like that,” says Ron, grimacing.

“We sent a couple of upper years to take care of it before he finds out,” Harry replies. “Shall we head down to Hagrid’s then?”

Ron nods and the three boys make their way across the grounds to the wooden hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest and a small pumpkin patch. Harry knocks on the door and they all look at it curiously as they hear a frantic scrambling, loud barks, and Hagrid’s voice shouting “Get  _ back _ , Fang!” Then, Hagrid opens the door and his eyes crinkle with a smile that they can’t see through his bushy beard.

“Harry! Glad yeh came!”

“Hi, Hagrid!” Harry says, smiling now. “This is Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy, two of my friends.”

“Malfoy, eh?” Hagrid asks, his smile falling away from his face. “I s’pose yer just like yer slimy git of a father.”

“I came to your dirty hovel to support my friend, not be insulted. I’m willing to play nice, but only if you do, too,” Draco responds with a sneer.

Hagrid doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so he turns to Ron instead and smiles again. “Seems like I spent half me life chasin’ Fred ‘n’ George away from the Forest. Come on in, you three, make yerselves at home.”

They sit down around a small circular table while Hagrid puts out a plate of rock cakes and pours boiling water into a teapot.

“So, how was yer firs’ week o’ lessons?” he asks, and they all launch into explanations, talking over each other and cutting in to supply their perspective. Draco tells very exaggerated versions of everything, which causes Harry and Ron to roll their eyes whenever he starts talking. Eventually, they make it to telling him about the morning’s Potions lesson, and Harry claims that Snape hates him, to which Ron nods enthusiastically and Draco cringes.

“Rubbish!” Hagrid exclaims. “Why should be? Ron, how’s yer brother Charlie? I like him a lot—great with animals.”

But Harry finds himself doubting Hagrid’s denial of Snape’s hatred. If Hagrid really didn’t believe Snape hates Harry, why wouldn’t he meet Harry’s eye and why would he change the subject?

Instead of listening to Ron telling of Charlie’s work with the dragons of Romania, Harry looks around the hut until his eyes land on a cutting from the  _ Daily Prophet _ laying on the table.

_ GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST _

_ Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown. _

_ Gringotts’ goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. _

_ ‘But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,’ said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon. _

“Hagrid!” Harry exclaims. “That break-in at Gringotts happened on my birthday! What if it was happening while we were there?”

“Look at the time!” Hagrid says instead of replying. “Yeh best be headin’ back ter the castle fer dinner. Here, take the rest o’ the rock cakes and share ‘em with yer other friends.”

Draco makes a face, but none of the boys refuse, so their trip down to the castle finds them laden down with the rock cakes.

“Hang on,” Harry says to Draco and Ron, stopping them halfway up to the castle. “That  _ Daily Prophet _ article said that the vault that was broken into had been emptied earlier the same day. While we were at Gringotts, Hagrid had emptied a vault for Dumbledore by taking out a package. What if it was the same vault?”

“It’s possible, but not exactly fact,” Draco says as he presses a hand into Harry’s back and urges him to keep walking. “There are thousands upon thousands of Gringotts vaults and millions of transactions that happen there every day. While Hagrid may have emptied a vault that day, there are probably about fifty other vaults that were also emptied that day.”

“As much as I hate to say it, Malfoy’s right,” Ron says.

“Then why did Hagrid immediately change the subject and send us on our way when I brought it up? Surely, he knows something,” Harry says as they enter the chaos of the Great Hall.

Ron breaks away from them to sit at the Gryffindor table while Harry and Draco start heading towards their own table.

“Maybe he really did just realize what time it is,” Draco says with a shrug.

Harry huffs in annoyance and sits down.

“Come on, don’t ignore me again. It’s no way to solve our problems.”

Instead of having to choose between replying and continuing to eat in silence, Harry is saved by Holly Parkinson sitting down on the other side of Draco and stealing an apple off the boy’s plate.

“Hey, I was eating that!”

“Hello, boys, have a Good Friday?” she says rather than replying, and then continues on without waiting for an answer. “Well, either way, we have a house meeting in the common room after dinner. Nothing too extreme, just the usual start of term stuff. Just make sure you don’t stay here too long, and maybe drag Vince and Greg away from the desserts. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can be finished and I have some plans I need to get to. See you!” And then she’s gone again.

“She took my apple,” Draco whines.

“It’s dinner, why do they even have apples available?” Harry asks, completely forgetting for a moment that he is supposed to be giving Draco the silent treatment.

“I told the house elves to send apples to the Slytherin table every meal,” he says.

“House-elves?”

“I forget you were raised Muggle. House-elves are magical creatures that work for wizarding families doing housework. Hogwarts employs a couple hundred. They’re the ones that do the cooking, cleaning, and laundry,” Draco explains. “If this house meeting after dinner is quick, I’ll take you to the kitchens to meet them. We could get some extra desserts to bring back to our room to keep Vince and Greg at bay until morning.”

The mention of the house meeting has Harry thinking back to what Holly had said and how she hadn’t waited for their answers of whether they were having a good day or not. This reminds Harry that he had not, in fact, had a good day and that Draco had played a large role in that. As a result, Harry goes back to eating his steak and kidney pie without speaking.

Draco sighs. “And we’re back to this. Fine. Let me know when you’re done acting like a git.”

Harry doesn’t let Draco know anything. They both eat the rest of their dinner in silence, much to the dismay of the rest of their friends who had shown up moments after Harry stopped talking again. The entire trip back to the Slytherin common room is spent in silence as nobody feels comfortable talking when neither Harry nor Draco are contributing to the conversation. In fact, the only sounds that come out of any of their mouths is when Pansy says “Salazar” and they all walk into the common room to claim their seats for the house meeting, which is quickly started by the fifth year prefects.

“Alright, everyone. For those of you that don’t know, my name is Jake Farley and on my right is Gemma Farley,” the boy says. “We are the newest Slytherin prefects and as such the majority of the prefect duties fall to us. Now, our first order of business is house unity. I'm sure you can all guess what that means, but we’re here to tell you how to show it. Slytherin house prides itself on being the most unified of the houses, other than maybe Hufflepuff. To keep up this image and tradition, we ask that you keep all arguments within these walls—” At this, Draco sends a pointed look at Harry, which the dark-haired boy ignores. “—because other houses don’t need to know that we don’t always get along.”

“Next, we have to talk about what marks you’re getting in your classes,” Gemma says. “Just like we pride ourselves on being loyal when that’s Hufflepuff’s trait, we pride ourselves on being wise even though it’s Ravenclaw’s trait. If you start getting bad marks in a class, ask one of your housemates to tutor you. Share notes with each other, look over each other’s homework. Figure out who is good at what subjects and delegate them as the leader of study groups.”

“And last but not least,” Jake says, “we ask you all that if you ever have any problems or need some help, come to one of the Slytherin prefects, we’ll help. If it’s something that affects the entire house, we will have an emergency house meeting. Other than that, house meetings will take place on the first Friday of every month.”

“We’re done with you, so go on and do what you want with your Friday night!”

What Harry wants to do with his Friday night is sleep, so he leaves to go to his room. When he walks through the door, however, he is surprised to see that Blaise and Theodore are already there, whispering to each other. Well, more like Blaise is whispering to a Theodore as Theodore nods along. Harry almost expects Blaise to stop talking when he sees Harry, but he just keeps on whispering. Not wanting to seem like he is intruding, Harry gathers his things and goes into the en suite bathroom to wash up before bed. By the time he finishes up and exits the bathroom, Blaise and Theodore are done talking and have both curled up in their beds, Theodore already asleep and Blaise reading a thick, leather bound book as he sucks on a sugar quill. Crabbe and Goyle are sitting on the floor in the space between their beds, both making a mess of themselves as they eat sticky sweets. Draco is still up and, to Harry’s great dislike, is sitting with his legs crossed in front of him on Harry’s bed.

“Er… your bed is that one,” Harry says, pointing across the room to Draco’s bed.

“I know. I need to talk to you, though,” the blond replies.

“Can we talk in the morning? I’m really tired,” says Harry.

“Nope!” Draco grins and pats the bed beside him, at which Harry reluctantly sits down. “I just want to make sure we’re good. I know we already talked about this before we went down to Hagrid’s, and you said you just needed some time, but I feel like the whole thing with Gringotts and us not exactly agreeing has made you even more hacked off with me.”

Harry thinks about it for a second. “No, we’re all right.”

“All right. So, did you want to go to the kitchens with me?”

“Can we wait until tomorrow? I wasn’t lying when I said I was really tired,” Harry says, and Draco smiles.

“Tomorrow then!” he says, and then he bounds across the room to his own bed, leaving Harry to get some much needed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!
> 
> Let me tell you, this chapter was a struggle to write. I think I rewrote it three or four times before I finally wrote a version I liked. Because of this, it’s a little shorter than I would have liked, but I’ve already started on chapter 5 and it’s going to be a long one, so make sure you subscribe so you can get a notification when it comes out next Monday.
> 
> Let me know what you liked about this chapter, I will respond to every comment, and I love and appreciate every one of you that leaves kudos.
> 
> Until next week! I love you all!  
> -2MusicLover2


	5. A Natural Flyer

“How did you even find out where the kitchens are?” Harry asks.

Draco throws a smirk at him over his shoulder and continues to lead the first year Slytherins through the corridors of the dungeons until at last they come to a stop next to a large painting of a bowl of fruit.

“I swear to Merlin if my sister showed you and not me…” Pansy says, and Draco winks at her. “Why are you her favorite? She and I share blood, I should be the favorite!”

“Are you sure we’re in the right place, Draco? All that’s here is a painting. No door or anything like that,” Millicent says.

“Do you really expect there to just be a door to the kitchens? There’s going to be a password of some kind to get through,” Blaise drawls.

“Exactly!” Draco says excitedly. “To get to the kitchens all you have to do is tickle the pear!”

“Tickle the pear?” asks a girl that Harry doesn’t know the name of.

“Tickle the pear,” Draco confirms with such a serious expression that Harry bursts out laughing, which makes Draco smile. “You think I’m joking, but watch,” he says. He extends a finger towards the pear and proceeds to tickle the pear, which giggles and turns into a large green door handle. “See? You tickle the pear.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t take you seriously when I just watched you tickle a painting,” Harry says with a smile.

Draco rolls his eyes. “Just come on,” he says as he opens the door, and they walk through it and into the kitchens.

Once inside, the Slytherins all stop and stare in awe. Sure, they were almost all used to house-elves—with the except of harry—but none of them have ever seen this many in one room before. Harry is especially awestruck, having never seen the small creatures with their large, round eyes and long, pointed ears and noses before.

"Young Mister Draco!" one of the house-elves that had noticed the intruders squeaks. "What is it you would be liking, Young Mister Draco, sir? Tippy is getting it for you, sir!"

"I'll just have an apple, but those two will want some pudding,” Draco says, pointing at Vincent and Gregory. “I'm not sure what everyone else wants."

As soon as Draco says this, the entirety of the kitchen staff is in a frantic rush to take the orders of the students and bring them the food they desire.

“Where can I get myself a house-elf?” Harry asks at large. He’s almost convinced that the creature’s willingness to do what they are told will be enough to make his aunt and uncle be okay with having one.

“I don’t think you really can anymore,” Draco answers. “They usually come with old wizard if houses, but I’m almost positive all of those are in use or so far beyond disrepair that even a house-elf wouldn’t live there anymore. Occasionally one might show up at the door of a respectable wizard of family and ask for work, but that’s about it. It’s hard to come across a free elf anymore. So many were killed in the war.”

Harry frowns. He assumes ‘the war’ was when Voldemort was in power, but nobody has ever really talked to him about that.

A house-elf carrying more treacle tart than what it should be able to fit in its thin arms runs up to Harry to give him his request.

“Young Mister is unhappy!” the house-elf squeaks. “What is Young Mister unhappy for?”

Harry quickly throws on a smile that he’s sure his friends see through, but seems to convince the dozens of house-elves who had turned to look at him. “No reason, this is just a lot to carry.”

The first house-elf, Tippy, snaps its fingers and all of the food the Slytherins has been given disappears. “Tippy is sending food to your dormitories so yous is not having to carries it.”

Draco nods at the elf and then turns to his friends. “Ready to go back then? There’s not really anything here other than the house-elves and food.”

They all agree to head back to the Slytherin dormitories where the boys and girls split to their separate rooms. The boys all sit on the beds—Draco, Harry, and Vincent on Draco’s and Blaise, Theodore, and Gregory on Blaise’s—and they eat the excess of food they had found sitting on each of their beds as they talk. Wanting to quench his curiosity, Harry finds himself asking about the war.

“Well, we don’t really know all that much more than you, do we? We were all still infants at the time,” Blaise replies.

“Surely, your parents must have told you things,” Harry says.

Draco shakes his head. “They don’t talk about the war with us. I don’t even think they talk about it with each other. It’s practically taboo.”

“Why though?”

“Our parents weren’t exactly in agreement with the Ministry during the war, even though they act like they are now. Talking about the past would probably make the Ministry suspicious of them,” Blaise says.

“They talk about what they value without explicitly saying it. Purebloods are superior to Half-bloods, Mudbloods and Muggles, but they would never say that outright. It’s not really something that would put them on good terms with the Ministry,” Draco explains.

Harry gives the boys a confused look. “What are Purebloods, Half-bloods, and Mudbloods?”

“Your magical parentage. Purebloods have been magical for generations on both parents’ sides; Half-bloods have one Muggle, one Pureblood or Half-blood parent; Mudbloods are witches and wizards born to Muggles,” Draco says.

“But,” Blaise adds, “it is generally unacceptable to call them Mudbloods in public. Most of the wizarding world would rather you call them Muggle-born.”

“Why call them Mudbloods, then?” Harry questions.

“Dirty blood,” Vincent grunts, and Gregory nods.

“Their magical blood is heavily tainted by Muggle blood. Purebloods pride ourselves on not having an ounce of Muggle blood, although most can’t even say that anymore. I’m one of the few that can,” Draco says, a smirk making its way into his face.

“What about Half-bloods, then? Surely they’d be just as frowned upon as Mudbloods? Especially since no one can control when a Mudblood is born but Purebloods can stop the birth of Half-bloods by not being with Muggles,” Harry says.

“That’s how it used to be, ages ago. The Dark Lord changed things when he came into power. He made Mudbloods seem so bad that the few families who were still prejudiced against Half-bloods practically forgot about them. It doesn’t help either that the Pureblood families are running out of marriages they can arrange without incest,” Blaise says.

“Arrange? Purebloods arrange marriages?”

Draco nods.

“Have any of your marriages already been arranged?”

“My parents are still in the searching stage,” Draco says.

Gregory shakes his head. “Goyle isn’t a Family worth much, Father already had trouble arranging my brother’s marriage. I’m free to marry who I want.”

“I’m the same as Greg,” Crabbe says with a shrug.

“Mother is negotiating with one of the Italian Families, and Theo will marry the Runcorn girl after we’re done with school,” says Blaise.

Harry tilts his head at that. He doesn’t believe he has ever heard Theodore speak, and now that he had a perfect opportunity to, Blaise spoke for him. Before he can ask about it, however, Draco nudges his side and Harry looks to see the blond give a tiny shake of his head, as if he knew exactly what Harry was going to ask about.

“Enough of this talk, it’s too depressing,” Draco groans and then smiles brightly. “How about we explore the castle?”

~*~

The rest of the weekend goes in much the same way. The Slytherins go back to the kitchens on Sunday morning to get more food, and they spend the rest of the day wandering the castle and its grounds while they eat. When they get back to the common room after dinner, they see that something new has been pinned to the notice board. Upon further inspection, they find out that the first years will be starting Flying Lessons on Thursday at 3:30, and that they would be having them with the Gryffindors. Draco is beyond excited.

“I’ve been flying since I was able to walk!” he exclaims as they change for bed. “Father says I’ll most definitely make the Slytherin Quidditch team. It’s a shame first years can’t have their brooms here, I tried to get Father to make an appeal, but he didn’t think it would make a difference. I don’t need the lessons, I already know how to fly, I’m brilliant at it, but I suppose it will be nice to be able to fly. Maybe I could help Madam Hooch teach—”

“Oh, shut up, will you? Some of us would like to sleep,” Blaise says angrily, and, with some minor grumbling, Draco does as Blaise said.

This week’s classes go much better than the first week. By now, the teachers have gotten used to Harry being in their classes and didn’t react to calling his name at the beginning of every class. Harry feels slightly sick all Thursday leading up to Flying Lessons, not wanting to go through having another teacher make a scene about him being there. However, when the Gryffindors finally come out onto the grounds where the Slytherins are already waiting, and Madam Hooch starts, she doesn’t check to make sure they are all there, which Harry is thankful for.

“Everyone, stand next to a broomstick!” she shouts to them all, her grey hair sparkling in the cool sunlight. “Come, come, hurry up! Now, put your right hand over your broom and say ‘up’! Make sure you say it clearly and with force, now!”

They all do as she says and Harry is delighted when his broom immediately springs off the ground and into his hand. Draco’s broom also jumps up on his first command, but most of the other students take several tries. Once they all have brooms in their hands, she shows them how to mount it. Harry laughs at his friend when she tell Draco he has been doing it wrong for years.

“Oh, shut up. I’m left-handed, it’s harder for me to mount it when it’s in my right hand,” he defends, but Harry continues to laugh.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, I want you all to kick off from the ground, hard. Make sure to keep your brooms steady, rise up a few feet, and then lean forward slightly to touch back down. On my whistle—three, two—”

Madam Hooch never does blow her whistle, for Neville kicks off just as she shouts ‘two,’ and he goes shooting up into the air. He makes it about twenty feet off the ground before his frightened face turns to look below him and he slips off the broom. Several students shriek when he lands face down on the grass with a thud and a nasty crack, and Madam Hooch rushes over to the boy.

“Broken wrist. Come on, up you get,” she mutters, and then she raises her voice to address the rest of the students. “I’ll be taking him to the Hospital Wing, and I expect that you all stay put on the ground until I get back. If I find out any of you decided to take a little flight while I’m gone, you will be out of this castle before you can say ‘Quidditch’!”

As soon as Madam Hooch and Neville are out of sight, Draco starts laughing.

“Merlin, did you see his face?” He laughs, but stops when he sees that Harry isn’t laughing along. “Come on, you have to have thought that was funny!”

“He’s hurt. There’s nothing funny about someone getting hurt,” Harry says, glaring at his friend.

“I’m not laughing about the fact that he got hurt,” Draco defends. “I’m laughing about what he looked like when he fell.”

“The fall caused him to break his wrist.”

Draco purses his lips, then seems to give up. “Okay. Fine. Want to take a lap around the courtyard?”

The bossy voice of Hermione Granger cuts in. “If you get on those brooms, I will tell Madam Hooch as soon as she gets back. She specifically said  _ not _ to fly while she is gone.”

“Sure, I’ll race you,” Harry says, mostly to spite Granger. She looks like she’s about to say something, but Draco and Harry are on their brooms and flying away before she can get a word out.

Flying on a broomstick is surprisingly easy for Harry. He quickly figures out what he needs to do to turn the broom and it’s not long before he paces Draco in their laps across the grounds, both boys laughing slightly maniacally with the joy of soaring through the air.

This newfound source of happiness is torn away from Harry all too soon when he hears a voice shout his and Draco’s names.

Professor McGonagall is storming her way across the grounds and towards where the two boys have just landed in front of their classmates. Many of them are cowering at the prospect of witnessing McGonagall’s wrath, but Granger wears a smug look on her face that most definitely says ‘I told you so’.

“How  _ dare _ you—never, in all my years—you could have fallen and hurt—you could have  _ died _ !” McGonagall rages. “I was sent out here to watch over you until Madam Hooch gets back from bringing Longbottom to the Hospital Wing, and I arrive to see you two doing exactly what I’m supposed to be keeping you from doing!”

Harry hangs his head in shame. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that Draco is doing the same.

“Both of you will be serving detentions this weekend. If you’re so keen to be flying on those brooms then you can spend your weekend cleaning the broom shed and locker rooms. I expect to see you on the Quidditch pitch with me after you have finished with breakfast on Saturday.”

~*~

It’s a fair punishment, really. Much better than the alternative of being expelled from the school. Harry almost has fun with it, polishing all of the brooms and organizing them by their make and model. Madam Hooch watches over them and has them catalogue every single broom and give her the ones that are in disrepair. She’s not nearly as mean as Harry had thought she would be, especially for watching over his and Draco’s detention. She talks with them about Quidditch, going over rules and explaining different plays. She and Draco get into a slightly heated argument about their favorite teams, but it’s quickly resolved when silver platters full of sandwiches crack into existence on one of the benches of the locker room they are cleaning at the time. By dinner time, they have already finished cleaning the broom she’s and all of the locker rooms, and Madam Hooch had them start on the stands out of what she said was ‘an obligation to keep them there for at least that day’. She releases them with a slight admonishment that they don’t fly without permission and supervision anymore, and a declaration that they do not have to be there the next morning.

“So, troublemakers, how was your first detention?” Holly asks when they sit down at the Slytherin table for dinner.

“Not nearly as bad as what you were saying it would be. Hooch seemed way to impressed with Harry’s flying skills to be too mean and we all know I’m a Quidditch prodigy, so that impressed her even more,” Draco says.

“Uh huh, you keep saying that but I’ve yet to see any proof of it. Anyways, didn’t Harry mention something about Hooch reprimanding you for mounting your broomstick wrong in the first lesson?”

Draco glares at her. “We don’t talk about that. Besides, I’m left-handed so it’s going to be different for me.”

“Honey, I’m left-handed too and I still mount a broom just like anyone else. Being left-handed has nothing to do with it.”

“Whatever,” Draco says with a pout, and that’s the end of the conversation.

“So what did you guys do all day without us?” Harry asks Blaise and Pansy.

“Wandered the castle, stole some food from the kitchens, the usual,” Blaise monotones.

“We did find something interesting in the trophy room,” Pansy says. “It’s about you, Harry, I think you’ll want to see it.”

“Pansy, don’t ruin the surprise for him,” Blaise says with a shake of his head.

“I’m not  _ ruining the surprise _ . I’m talking it up to him and making it seem more interesting.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Seems to me like you were about to tell him exactly what it was. Oh, well, you’ve piqued my curiosity, so you’ve no doubt piqued his as well. Show us to this interesting find of yours in the trophy room.”

“Alright, come on then,” Pansy says mock-exasperatedly, and the four Slytherins leave the Great Hall and head in the direction of the Trophy Room.

Once there, Pansy and Blaise walk straight towards one of the trophy cases and Pansy points at a plaque through the glass.

_ 1974 Hogwarts Quidditch Cup Winners: Gryffindor Team _

_ Captain: Elaine Wilson _

_ Chasers: Calder Malley, James Potter, Katelyn Knight _

_ Beaters: Elaine Wilson, Liam Keyes _

_ Keeper: Andrew Richards _

_ Seeker: Callum Grant _

Harry reads it and then looks at another plaque that Blaise is pointing at.

_ 1975 Hogwarts Quidditch Cup Winners: Gryffindor Team _

_ Captain: Callum Grant _

_ Chasers: Calder Malley, James Potter, Katelyn Knight _

_ Beaters: Liam Keyes, Roderick Brown _

_ Keeper: Rosaleigh Thompson _

_ Seeker: Callum Grant _

Looking around, Harry sees that there are more.

_ 1976 Hogwarts Quidditch Cup Winners: Gryffindor Team _

_ Captain: Callum Grant _

_ Chasers: James Potter, Katelyn Knight, Mollie Quinn _

_ Beaters: Roderick Brown, Peter Jones _

_ Keeper: Rosaleigh Thompson _

_ Seeker: Callum Grant _

_ 1977 Hogwarts Quidditch Cup Winners: Gryffindor Team _

_ Captain: James Potter _

_ Chasers: Katelyn Knight, Mollie Quinn, Imogen Perry _

_ Beaters: Roderick Brown, Peter Jones _

_ Keeper: Rosaleigh Thompson _

_ Seeker: James Potter _

_ 1978 Hogwarts Quidditch Cup Winners: Gryffindor Team _

_ Captain: James Potter _

_ Chasers: Katelyn Knight, Mollie Quinn, Imogen Perry _

_ Beaters: Roderick Brown, Peter Jones _

_ Keeper: Rosaleigh Thompson _

_ Seeker: James Potter _

“Wow, Harry. No wonder you’re a natural flyer. It’s in your blood,” Draco says.

“If you don’t make the team next year, I will be thoroughly upset,” says Pansy. “If your dad was on the team for five years and won the quidditch cup every year, that’s some serious skill that I truly hope you have inherited.”

“Will there even be tryouts next year?” Harry asks.

“There will for sure be Seeker tryouts, the current Seeker is a seventh year. I think one of the Chasers is also a seventh year, but other than that I don’t know. It’s up to the captain,” Draco says as if this information is something he has been thinking about for a while.

Harry shrugs. “I mean, I guess I can try out, but that doesn’t mean anything. It might be fun.”

“I’ll try out with you!” Draco exclaims. “And, even if we don’t make the real team, there’s always the chance that we make the reserve team for practices and when the real team members are too sick or injured to play.”

“Okay, next year we’ll try out for Slytherin’s Quidditch team,” Harry agrees with a smile.

Harry was all for trying something that his dad did, and based on his talks with Madam Hooch and Draco today, Quidditch seemed fun. It wouldn’t hurt to at least try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Sorry this was late, my computer was acting up and I thought I had lost it, which was great, but I ended up finding it (obviously). I’m just glad I didn’t have to rewrite it because I’m not sure if I would be able to do that.
> 
> I got a lot of things addressed in this chapter, and I’m curious as to what you guys think about them, so comment down below your thoughts on Theodore, the boys’ explanations of blood purity and how the end of the war was handled within their families, and Harry’s not being a part of the Quidditch team. I’ll reply to all comments!
> 
> As you can see, this chapter gave us the second major plot difference in the story (the first being Slytherin!Harry), with Harry not being on his house Quidditch team. Just like Harry’s house affecting the storyline in a major way, this is going to really affect the storyline, and I was almost not sure how to correct those changes, but I think I’ve got it figured out.
> 
> Since I always feel like I’m just begging for you guys to comment and leave kudos, I’m going to start having a question for you to answer after I post each chapter. This way I feel less weird about it and you can get more involved with the story. So this week, I’d like to know who your favorite character is so far in this story. Comment down below with why and I’ll reply to your comment!
> 
> Thank you for all of your support, and remember to comment and leave kudos! See you next Monday, October 21!  
> -2MusicLover2


	6. Troll in the Dungeons

October arrives at the castle in a flurry of leaves raining upon the grounds in red, orange, and yellow. Students start bundling up with hats, scarves, and gloves every time they have to go outside for a class, and breaks are spent inside by a fireplace, avoiding the crisp autumn air.

The seats by the fireplaces in the Slytherin common room have become such desired seats that several scuffles and duels occur over who gets the opportunity to bask in the warmth. One afternoon, while the upper years are in class, the first years decide to take advantage of the absence of students much larger and more capable in a duel than them, so they hold court in front of the largest, most elaborately carved fireplace in the common room as they complete their homework.

“I still don’t get this essay for Snape,” Harry says after about twenty minutes of writing and subsequently scribbling out his response to _Aconite is a highly toxic substance, yet it is an ingredient in the_ Wideye Potion _and in the potion known as_ Wolfsbane Potion _. Discuss._ “What am I supposed to be ‘discussing’ here?”

“Basically, he wants you to observe that even though aconite is toxic, it is used as an ingredient in antidotes,” Draco explains. “The  _ Wideye Potion _ is really popular among students wishing to stay up late in order to study, but it is also known as the  _ Awakening Potion _ , which is the antidote to the  _ Draught of Living Death _ .  _ Wolfsbane Potion _ is the only known counter to lycanthropy, and while it’s not a true cure in that it doesn’t prevent werewolves from turning during the full moon, it allows them to stay aware and prevent themselves from attacking people.”

“‘Basically’ he says,” mutters Blaise. “That’s even more confusing than the prompt itself.”

“How is it toxic then?” Harry asks. Completely frustrated with his attempts, he crumples up his ink-covered parchment and throws it into the fire.

“The plant itself is toxic. If you were to eat aconite without mixing it with anything else, you would die. The base ingredient of billywig stings in the  _ Wideye Potion _ acts as a neutralizing agent. I’m not really sure what part of the  _ Wolfsbane Potion _ is the neutralizing agent since I don’t know any of the other ingredients, but there has to be something because when it is brewed wrong it can kill the drinker.”

“So what am I writing about?”

Draco is about to answer when Blaise puts his hand over his mouth to cut him off. “Listening to him is just going to make you even more confused—he grew up learning Potions from Snape himself and has inherited not only Snape’s love of and knack for Potions but also his ability to make the simplest of Potions topics confusing to even the masters.” Draco makes an indignant sound from behind Blaise’s hand and Harry laughs. “Basically, you’re writing about the irony that something known to kill is used to wake people up and ease the side effects of the things it is known best for killing.”

“See, that makes sense,” Harry says.

As soon as Blaise removes his hand from Draco’s mouth, the blond sticks his tongue out at him.

“If you wouldn’t keep re-explaining everything I try to teach everyone about Potions, they might just end up understanding me,” says Draco.

“Or we’d just end up failing Potions and making you look better since you’d be the only one passing,” Harry quips and then drops his jaw in mock realization. “Wait a second—that’s been your plan all along, hasn’t it?”

Draco tries to hide his grin by turning it into a smirk to play along. “You can’t prove anything,” he says and then bursts out in laughter, no longer able to hold it back. “Seriously though,” Draco says when everyone has slowed their laughter down to an occasional giggle. “I bet if you would just let me explain Potions without anyone simplifying it you would all catch on and at least be able to understand me.”

“Really?” Blaise asks, sounding quite incredulous. “You’re willing to make a bet on that?”

“Yes,” Draco replies, although he seems slightly less confident than before.

“Let’s make this interesting, then. What are you willing to bet?”

Draco hesitates, clearly thinking his options over. “If you win you can have all of my sweets next time Mother sends them,” he offers.

“Yawn,” Blaise drawls. “I said  _ interesting _ , Draco. If I wanted sweets I’d just have to ask for them. What else are you willing to offer? And remember…  _ interesting _ … or the deal’s off.”

“Well, what do you want? Obviously you have something in mind.”

“You know me too well. I want a free pass on my homework for the rest of term.”

Draco scoffs. “And how do you expect me to get that for you? I don’t have all of the teachers in my pocket nearly as much as you think I do.”

“Who said anything about the teachers being in on it?” Blaise asks. “If I win, I want you to do my homework for me, and I expect top marks.”

“Fine,” Draco huffs. “And if I win you do my work for the rest of the term, and it has to earn better marks than yours.”

Blaise purses his lips in thought then sticks out his hand. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Draco agrees. “Now we just need someone impartial for me to teach about Potions.”

After several moments of silence in which the Slytherins all try to think of someone, Harry speaks up.

“What about Ron?” he suggests.

“We need someone  _ impartial _ , Harry. Ron’s not exactly impartial, is he?” Blaise replies.

“Why not? It’s not like he likes either of you. I think Ron is about the most impartial person you can get that might actually agree to do this,” Harry says.

“He’s got a point,” says Pansy.

“Fine,” Draco concedes. “It’s almost not worth it, though. Having to tutor—” he shivers in disgust “—a Gryffindor blood traitor. Father mustn’t find out about this, so I expect you’ll all keep your mouths shut. Understand?”

Murmurs of agreement sound throughout the group as the common room is suddenly flooded with upper years entering to drop their bags in their dormitories before dinner.

“Come on, we can ask Ron about it before we eat if we’re quick,” Harry says as he gathers up his parchment and books.

~*~

“Absolutely not,” Ron says when Harry, Draco, and Blaise approach him with their question in the Entrance Hall.

“Come on, I’ll pay you!” Draco pleads, and Ron looks almost ready to agree before he adds, “Merlin knows you need the money.”

“See, that right there is why I won’t do it,” Rons says, walking away from the other three boys and into the Great Hall. “You can’t go without insulting me for five minutes, so what makes you think I’d want to spend hours having you ‘tutor’ me in Potions?”

“Ron, please?” Harry asks.

“What d’you get out of this to want me to do it so badly?”

Harry shrugs and an amused smirk slides onto his face. “I plan on joining in on every lesson to watch in amusement as you and Draco try not to strangle each other.”

“You know, I had a feeling these two would be bad for you, and I guess now I know I was right,” Ron says. He sits down at the Gryffindor table and starts loading the plate in front of him with food, only to stop when he realizes the other Gryffindors are staring at the three Slytherins still standing behind him. “Can I eat in peace?”

Draco grins wickedly. “Not until you agree to let me tutor you in Potions.”

“You’re tutoring people in Potions? Are you sure you’re good enough for that? I mean, I’ve seen the potions you’ve turned in, and you and I are the only ones to successfully complete any of the potions, but does that really mean you’re capable of teaching someone? Maybe a study group would—”

“No one asked for your opinion, Granger,” Draco says with a sneer, completely cutting off the bushy-haired girl.

“Hey, be nice to her. You don’t have to be over here, this isn’t your table,” Seamus Finnegan says, and Draco rolls his eyes.

“So, Weasley, will you do it? I’ve got a lot riding on this, you know,” Draco says.

“I feel like I should be getting something out of this, too,” Ron replies.

“Really, Weasley, what could be better than spending hours with Draco Malfoy attempting to teach you Potions?” says Blaise.

“How about whoever loses has to do your homework as well as the winner’s?” Harry suggests, which leads to an onslaught of shouting.

“I’m down for that,” Ron replies with a grin.

“How is that fair? One person doing their homework plus two other people’s? No way!” says Draco.

“You’re only saying that because you’re afraid of losing. Just admit it, you could never teach anyone,” Blaise taunts.

“I’ll win this bet and then you’ll be sorry you ever said that because  _ you’ll _ be the one doing homework for three.”

“We’re making bets to get other people to do our homework now? I want in!” Finnegan says.

“Me too,” adds Dean Thomas.

“That’s cheating!” shrieks Granger, and the cries to join in on the bet stop.

“Yeah, so?” Draco sneers.

Granger gives them all a stern look. “If I hear any more about this I’ll have to report you to a teacher.”

Harry, Draco, and Blaise all exchange looks.

“Fine, bet’s off,” Draco says. “See you, Weasley. Sorry that Granger wants you to continue failing Potions.”

“You’re not really calling the bet off, are you?” Harry asks when they sit down at the Slytherin table, Draco and Harry facing the Gryffindors so Draco can easily shoot glares at Granger.

“Merlin, no,” Draco replies. “We’ll just have to be a little more subtle about it. Could you talk to Weasley during Flying Lessons and tell him we’re still willing to do it? Tell him that if us doing his homework is what he wants out of this then he can get that.”

“Of course,” Harry says with a grin.

~*~

Harry doesn’t get a chance to talk to Ron in their next Flying Lesson. Every time they get close to each other, Granger suddenly appears and makes it known that she is keeping a close eye on them. It’s not until the last Potions class of the month when Harry gets a chance to talk with Ron, and only because Hermione is on the opposite side of the classroom.

“So are you up for it?” Harry whispers over his and Draco’s boiling cauldron.

Ron gives him a confused look as he drops something in his cauldron and it gives a weak gurgling noise that concerns everyone at the table. “Up for what?”

“Up for me to teach you how to not kill us all with your potions,” Draco says, glaring at the mud-like bubble currently growing within Ron’s cauldron.

The bubble pops and a putrid-smelling smoke wafts through the air around their table, making them all gag.

“Misters Weasley and Longbottom, once again you have managed to ruin your potion so terribly that there is no chance for me to grade you on it. Ten points from Gryffindor,” Snape says when the stench draws him over to their table. He waves his wand, vanishing the potion from the cauldron, and then gives Harry and Draco a disapproving glance before stalking away to prowl the rest of the classroom.

“At this rate, there’s no way I could possibly do worse in this class, so I might as well have you try to teach me something,” Ron mutters with a grimace.

“Excellent!” Draco whisper-shouts. “Your first lesson will be after lunch today. Meet me in the spare Potions classroom just down the corridor from this one.”

Ron nods solemnly, which makes Harry grin. With any luck, this bet will lead to his two best friends getting along.

That plan goes downhill almost as soon as Ron steps through the door into the spare classroom, however. Draco and Ron argue just as often as Draco and Blaise, except much less civilly. Harry has to take away the boys’ wands to keep them from hexing each other, and by the time the lesson is over, Ron and Draco are both fuming and Harry is glad he was there to intervene.

“Can you believe that git?” Draco seethes. “He acts like he’s so much better than me just because of what side our parents were on in the war, but look at which one of us is able to brew a simple Cure for Boils? It’s not him, I’ll tell you that!”

Harry isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He knows he’s probably supposed to agree with Draco, but Ron is his friend too, and he doesn’t want to betray the other boy’s friendship.

The days go on like this, Harry spending his free time keeping Draco and Ron from hurting each other and the boys barely learning anything from Draco about Potions. By Halloween, Harry is seriously thinking about telling Draco that the bet should be called off because he can’t take the fighting anymore. He plans on talking to Ron and Draco during lunch, but Draco drags him over to the Gryffindor table first.

“What is your schedule like this afternoon?” Draco asks Ron without any preamble.

Ron startles and drops his sandwich on his plate. Just down the table, Granger perks up and turns her bushy head slightly towards them to listen better.

“Um… right after lunch is Herbology and then Flying Lessons with you after that, then a free period,” Ron says, shooting a cautious glance at Granger.

“Okay, you can just come with us after Flying Lessons then so we can start right away, sound good?” Draco says.

Granger turns fully towards them now and looks at them angrily. “I’ve already told you this bet is cheating! I will report you!”

“As if it is any of your business but we called the bet off. It’s not against your precious rules to have a study group, is it?” Draco sneers and Granger huffs.

“This is exactly why you don’t have any friends,” Ron adds.

Granger drops her spoon into her bowl of soup and pushes it away before standing up and running out of the Great Hall. Harry sees her reach up to wipe at her eyes as she runs out the door.

“Maybe that was a little harsh,” Harry tells Ron.

“Yeah, but it’s the truth,” Ron says, although he looks extremely guilty.

“Oh, who cares,” Draco says with a wave of his hand. “Just make sure you bring your Potions stuff with you. It’s not exactly easy to teach you when you don’t have your stuff… not that you’re easy to teach to begin with.”

~*~

Granger doesn’t come to Flying Lessons and according to Ron she wasn’t in Herbology. Harry overhears two Gryffindor girls talking about how they had found her crying in the bathroom between classes, but he doesn’t dare to ask them anything about it. She is still nowhere to be found when the three boys enter the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast that night. Ron grimaces guiltily when his eyes scan the Gryffindor table and find no sight of the girl. Harry pats him on the back before they split up to go to their separate tables to eat.

The assortment of sweets that appears on the table for dessert takes Harry’s mind completely off Granger’s face when she had ran out. It isn’t until Professor Quirrell runs into the Great Hall screaming about a troll in the dungeons that Harry remembers and yanks on the sleeve of Draco’s robes.

“Granger doesn’t know about the troll!” Harry shouts over the chaos of the prefects trying to lead their houses to their common rooms.

“So?” Draco exclaims, a look of pure fear on his face.

“What if the troll finds her? We need to let her know!”

Ron catches up to where the two boys are standing in the doorway and gives them incredulous looks.

“What are you just standing here for?” he shouts.

“Harry here is worried about Granger not knowing about the troll,” Draco says with a roll of his eyes.

“We need to help her? It could kill her!” Harry says.

“Harry’s right,” Ron says.

The crowd pushes them through the door, but Ron grabs the backs of Harry’s and Draco’s robes and rugs them down an empty corridor.

“Parvati and Lavender said she was this way,” Ron says, leading the other two down the corridor.

They stop when a putrid stench fills the air around them. Draco points to an alcove that they all duck inside just in time for the troll to go walking past, dragging a club behind it. It walks through a door and Harry runs to lock it inside the room. Before any of them start celebrating, however, a high-pitched scream from within the room causes them all to look at each other with wide eyes in realization.

They had just shut the troll in with Granger.

Harry bursts into the bathroom to see Granger cowering against the wall opposite as the troll advances on her, smashing sinks as it goes. Without hesitation, Harry picks up a tap lying on the floor and launches it at the troll’s head. To Harry’s relief, this confuses the troll and causes it to turn around and see what had hit it, but then it is making its way towards Harry.

“Oy, pea-brain!” Ron shouts at the troll as he throws a metal pipe at it. The troll turns again, giving Harry time to run around it towards Granger, but Draco is already there, trying to drag her away from the wall.

“Come on,  _ run _ ! I don’t exactly want to die trying to help you!” Draco is saying.

Deciding that Draco can handle Granger, Harry looks to see that the troll is lumbering towards Ron, who can’t escape. Harry takes a great running leap and lands on the trolls back, accidentally stuffing his wand up its nose in the process.

The troll howls in pain and starts flailing its club in the air, narrowly missing Harry. Harry barely manages to stay clinging on and is just about to attempt jumping off when he hears Ron shout, “ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ !”

The club is suddenly missing from the troll’s hand, rising up in the air, until it drops, landing on the troll’s head with a dull thud. There is a moment of echoing silence before the troll sways and falls over, landing flat on its face.

Harry climbs to his feet and looks at the mess around him. Granger is now sitting on the floor, trembling, as Draco stands above her, trying to tug her to her feet by her arm. Ron still has his wand pointed at the troll and is staring with an open mouth at what he had just done. Finally, Granger is the first to speak.

“Is it… dead?” she asks

“I don’t think so,” Harry replies. He pulls his wand out of the troll’s nose and grimaces at the grey slime covering it. “Troll bogies.”

Just as Harry is wiping his wand off on the troll’s pants, the door slams open and Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell come barraging in.

“What on earth were you thinking of?” Professor McGonagall says with a cold fury as Snape inspects the unconscious troll.

“Please, Professor McGonagall. They were looking for me,” Granger says. “I thought I could handle the troll on my own—I’ve read all about them. “

Granger hangs her head as Professor McGonagall gives her a disappointed look.

“How could you be so foolish as to think you could tackle a mountain troll on your own? Five points from Gryffindor, off to Gryffindor Tower, you can finish your feast there,” McGonagall says. “And as for the rest of you… you’re very lucky to have survived this, not many first years would be able to say the same. Five points to each of your houses. I’ll be informing Professor Dumbledore of this. You can go to your common rooms as well.”

All in all, Harry thinks earning ten points for his house is a good way to end his Halloween feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!
> 
> Sorry this is so late, I had a long weekend and lost track of what day it was.
> 
> Comment who you think will win Draco and Blaise’s bet and don’t forget to leave kudos! I will reply to all comments!
> 
> Check out my tumblr account (2musiclover2) for weekly updates on my writing and to find out more about what I’m doing!
> 
> See you again Monday, October 28th for chapter 7!  
> -2MusicLover2


	7. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor

The next morning in Potions, Granger takes the seat next to Ron.

“Sorry, but this table only has room for one insufferable know-it-all and Malfoy has already taken that position,” Ron says to her, but she just keeps pulling her books and ingredients out of her cauldron and organizing them on the table.

“Instead of taking offense to Weasley’s words, I’m going to take it as a compliment that he prefers my company over Granger’s,” Draco says with a smug smirk on his face.

Ron sticks his tongue out at him.

“Please, call me Hermione,” Granger says.

“Why? We’re not exactly friends,” Draco replies.

“Call me Hermione,” she says again, and this time the boys take it as the command that it is rather than a request.

Having Granger—Hermione—at their table is much different than when Neville was there. Instead of Draco having to correct Neville and Ron every step of the way in making their potion, Draco only has to correct their potion when it is Ron’s turn to do something. Even then, he has to race Hermione to scolding Ron and telling him how to do it properly. By the end of class, Ron and Harry are both thoroughly annoyed with their partners and start mocking them behind their backs as the two argue about the ethics of different potions on their way out of the classroom.

The group finds itself in the Great Hall an hour early for lunch. There is a moment of hesitation before Draco starts walking towards the Slytherin table, Harry going with him but Ron and Hermione staying behind. When Draco realizes that the two Gryffindors aren’t with him, he stops and turns to face them.

“Are you coming or not?” he asks.

Hermione makes a face like she is feeling very conflicted.

“Trust me, no one will say anything about you being there. I’m the heir of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families. No one would dare to say anything to me or the people I talk to,” Draco says.

They both seem to take that as an acceptable answer, and the four first years sit down at the Slytherin table, continuing to talk until lunch starts and the rest of the Slytherins interrupt their conversation.

“Since when could we eat at other houses’ tables?” Pansy asks.

“I thought you said no one would question you?” Ron questions with one eyebrow raised.

“Using the Gryffindors to feed into that God-complex, are we?” Blaise adds as he sits down.

Draco huffs and his glare sweeps over each of them. “I don’t have a God-complex.”

Harry laughs.

“Don’t you laugh at me! I don’t have a God-complex and you know it.”

“No one ever answered my question,” Pansy says.

“And what was your question, my dear sister?” Holly squeezes herself in between Harry and Draco and throws an arm around each of the boys’ shoulders. Harry freezes under the unexpected contact, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she almost immediately retracts her arms to swat Draco’s hands away from poking her cheek.

“I didn’t know we could sit at a table other than the Slytherin table,” Pansy replies.

Holly looks curiously at her sister before her eyes are drawn to the two Gryffindors sitting with them. “Well, hello there, little lions.”

Ron grins through a mouthful of sandwich before he remembers he hasn’t swallowed his food. His face turns a furious shade of red, and he ducks his head in embarrassment.

Hermione, however, smiles brightly and says, “Hello! I’m Hermione Granger. You are?”

“Holly Parkinson, this little brat’s older sister,” Holly says to Hermione before she addresses her sister. “We’ve always been able to sit at the other tables during every meal except for feasts, Slytherins just choose to stick to our own table and normally we don’t have anyone to invite over here.”

“So we’re not breaking any rules by having Ron and Hermione sit over here?” Harry asks, instantly regretting it when his question seems to remind Holly that she doesn’t have her arm around his shoulders and she puts it back.

“Nope, so don’t worry about it. Now, I’ve got stuff to do, but remember there’s a house meeting tonight.”

With that, Holly releases her hold on Harry and Draco and stands up, ruffling their hair before she leaves.

“House meeting? What’s that?” Hermione asks, seemingly intrigued.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Draco answers. “All the Slytherins gather in our common room after dinner and discuss… things. Does Gryffindor not do that?”

“There is no order in Gryffindor house,” Hermione says disappointedly.

“Of course there’s not. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the lions,” Pansy says.

“Hey!” Ron exclaims, offended.

“It’s not like what she said isn’t the truth, Ronald,” Hermione says.

“Ooh, _Ronald ,_ ” Pansy teases.

Ron grimaces. “I regret following you over here.”

~*~

“Third house meeting of the year, just seven more to go!” Gemma says after dinner when the Slytherins are all gathered in their common room.

“Our first order of business is to discuss the chairs by the fireplace,” Jake says.

Everyone turns to look at the chairs in question where an almost silent fight to sit down freezes, and among the chaos Harry sees a seventh year holding a third year in a headlock, two fourth years holding wands to each other’s chests, and Holly on someone’s back as she pulls the girl’s hair. The students involved all separate quickly and straighten out their clothes, leaving the desired chairs vacant.

“The fighting’s gotta stop,” Gemma says. “We tried making rules for it last month, but obviously they didn’t work as well as we planned.”

“Which is why we have made some adjustments to the rules,” Jake adds. “The first of which is that nothing can claim a seat for you except for _your physical body_.”

Harry looks around at his fellow Slytherins, wondering what exactly caused that adjustment. Blaise shrugs at him and Harry turns to Draco, but the blond is too busy looking around the room for someone who might know to notice Harry.

“Next rule: you can’t jinx or hex anyone to fall out of the chair.”

“Which goes along with the third rule: no cursing the chairs to cause any harm to a person other than you that sits in them.”

These are all very specific rule changes, and Harry feels bad for whoever has fallen victim and caused the changes to be made.

“Lastly,” Jake says, “we are putting a time limit on sitting there. You may use the chairs for one hour, or one class. Those coming in from Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, or from flying will get first choice of seating. This is just to give those who were out in the snow and wind a chance to dry off and get warmed up. We don’t want to have to send anyone to Madam Pomfrey because we can’t agree on seating.”

“Our only other thing to talk to you about this month is the event that is coming up eight days from now,” Gemma says dramatically, and an excited murmuring breaks out. “That’s right, everyone, the Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch March is in only eight days. I expect you all to attend and show support for your house. The Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry is the biggest in the school, meaning this will most likely be the biggest match all year. But no pressure to the team or anything. They can wipe the floor with Gryffindor without any problems.”

Everyone starts cheering, and Harry assumes the meeting is over when the Quidditch team members are lifted into the air, a crowd forming around them to cheer them on in their coming victory.

~*~

“As much as I hate to say it, Slytherin’s going to win today,” Ron says when Harry and Draco meet him and Hermione outside of the Great Hall before breakfast on the day of the match.

“Merlin, Harry, I think there’s something wrong with Ron. He just said something somewhat intelligent,” Draco exclaims, clutching his chest in mock shock.

“Hey, I’ve said intelligent things before!” Ron defends, and Draco scoffs.

“Come on, Ron. Show a little house pride. We can win this,” Hermione says.

Harry shakes his head at her. He and Draco have been watching the Slytherin team practice and he doesn’t believe anyone could beat the Slytherin’s this year. Not to mention, the entirety of the Gryffindor team has a mixture of nervous and defeated looks on their faces.

“There’s no way Slytherin would lose this match,” Harry says confidently.

“Well, you have to say that, it’s your house,” Hermione replies.

“He doesn’t have to say it, they’re still going to win,” says Ron. “Fred and George were saying that they barely managed to find someone to be Seeker and the Seeker they did find isn’t all that great.”

“Who’s the Seeker?” Draco asks.

Ron points to a girl with long caramel-colored hair sitting at the Gryffindor table in Quidditch robes. “Rilynn Watson. She’s a fourth-year and Fred and George think the last time she had been on a broom before tryouts was in her first year Flying Lessons, but she was the only one who showed up to try out. They tried to get Lee Jordan to try out, but that would mean he’d have to give up his commentating duties.”

“Isn’t he the one that brought a tarantula?” Hermione asks with a disgusted look on her face.

“Yeah,” Ron replies, smiling and laughing at Hermione’s apparent discomfort.

Instead of sitting with the Slytherins like they had been doing for the past week, Hermione drags Ron to the Gryffindor table ‘to show house pride on the day of the game’.

“Are you ready to watch the lions get flattened?” Pansy asks when Draco and Harry join her at the table.

“I almost feel bad for how rough their season is going to be,” Blaise says, “but then I realize that I’m mistaking my elation at the prospect of winning for sympathy.”

Just then, the Slytherin team comes into the Great Hall to a chorus of cheering from their housemates and boos from the other houses. Harry joins in clapping, and then gets a panicked look on his face when he realizes the Captain, Marcus Flint, is walking straight towards him.

“Harry,” Marcus says when he reaches him, “Snape sent me to tell you that he wants you to sit in the commentator’s box with him. He said Draco is welcome to come too.”

Harry nods and, swallowing down his disgust at having to sit with Snape, he says, “Thanks. Good luck today.”

“Why do you think Snape wants you to sit with him?” Pansy asks when Marcus and the rest of the team stalk away.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be any good—Snape hates me,” Harry replies. 

“Hate to say it, Harry, but Snape doesn’t hate you. He’s just using that as an excuse to favor me and let me sit in the commentator’s box. Face it, you would all be nobodies if I wasn’t your friend,” Draco interjects.

Pansy rolls her eyes and Blaise smacks the back of Draco’s head.

“Hey!” Draco exclaims, pushing Blaise away from him as they all laugh.

Hermione and Ron join the Slytherins again as the students all head out to the Quidditch pitch to watch the game. Blaise and Draco both taunt the Gryffindors about the predicted outcome of the game until Harry interjects to complain about what Marcus had told him in the Great Hall.

“Oh, mate, I’m sorry. That’s tough luck, that is,” Ron says sympathetically.

“Maybe he just wants to talk with you for a minute and you won’t have to stay there,” Hermione suggests.

Harry shrugs, wanting to believe Hermione’s almost desperate suggestion, but he knows deep down that it’s just wishful thinking.

“Well, whatever it is, good luck,” Pansy says when they reach the stands and are huddled together next to the stairs to the commentator’s box.

Harry thanks her and after a moment’s hesitation, she and Hermione both give Harry hugs. Just as Ron is patting Harry on the back and Blaise is nodding his head at him, Draco speaks up.

“Excuse me, but I do believe that Harry isn’t the only one who has to spend the entirety of the game with Snape. I’ll be joining him. Where’s my sympathy?”

“Oh, of course, Draco. We are ever so sorry for forgetting that you are to endure the evilness and cruelty that is your _godfather_ who _adores you_ and openly calls you _his favorite_ ,” Blaise says mockingly. “Come, let me hug you goodbye, for you are unlikely to make it out of this alive.”

The following hug starts out with Draco enjoying the attention, however mocking it is, and ends with him flailing and trying to get away as Blaise clings on too tight and screams that he can’t let Draco go and send him off to his ultimate doom.

“Blaise!” Draco shrieks as his pushes at the other boy, trying and failing to loosen his grip. “Blaise, let go!”

Finally, Blaise lets go of Draco when everyone else’s laughter is cut off by a cold voice.

“Five points from Slytherin. I expect my house to act much more dignified than that when in public,” Snape drawls, causing Draco and Blaise to spring apart.

“Sorry, Sir. We were just joking around,” says Draco, who is looking at the ground as if deeply ashamed.

“Yes, well… I suppose this was bound to happen, what with the company you have decided to start keeping. Now, you should all be heading to your seat before I have to start taking points off for loitering. Potter and Malfoy, come with me.”

With one last set of sympathetic looks from Pansy, Blaise, Ron, and Hermione, Harry and Draco start following their greasy-haired Head of House up the many flights of stairs to the commentators box, where they see the rest of the professors and Lee Jordan are already seated.

“You two will sit directly in front of me so I can keep an eye on you. We can’t have the Boy Who Lived getting up to no good or causing a scene during the first Quidditch match of the year, can we?” Snape says with a smirk. He places a hand on the boys’ shoulders, steers them to a spot in the stands and pushes them to sit down.

Harry and Draco exchange a quick, awkward look with each other, both trying to convey how they feel like they can’t talk and act like normal eleven-year-old boys with Snape sitting right behind them, especially not after what happened at the bottom of the stairs, as well as confusion as to why Snape thinks Harry would want to do something to cause a disturbance at the game he was so excited to watch.

Madam Hooch stands in the center of the field, calmly waiting as the players from the two teams leave their changing rooms and form a circle around her with their brooms in hand. When everyone has gathered around her, she appears to say something to them all, although to Harry it looks as though she is directing it mostly at the Slytherin team, the captain to be specific. Then, the players all mount their brooms, and Harry and Draco both have to stifle their laughter as Gryffindor’s Seeker almost slips off her broom, and with the shrill blow of Madam Hooch’s whistle, the players and Madam Hooch all take off and the game begins.

“And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and attractive too—”

“JORDAN!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

Harry laughs at the exchange between Professor McGonagall and Lee Jordan as he watches the players glide through the air on their brooms, wishing he could be out there with them. Maybe he’d be a Chaser like his dad, or a Seeker, also like his dad. Either way, he would love to be out there flying for the Slytherin team.

“And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood’s, last year only a reserve—back to Johnson and—no, Slytherin have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes—” the Slytherins in the stands all cheer, including Harry and Draco, much to the dismay of the staff members around them “—Flint flying like an eagle up there—he’s hound to sc—no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and Gryffindor take the Quaffle—” the groans of the Slytherins are drowned out by the cheers of the other three houses “—that’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—OUCH—that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—Quaffle taken by Slytherin—that’s Adrian Pusey speeding off towards the goalposts, but he’s blocked by a second bludger—sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which—nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes—she’s really flying—dodges a speeding Bludger—the goalposts are ahead—come on, now, Angelina—Keeper Bletchley dives—misses—GRYFFINDOR SCORE!”

“No!” Draco groans as the staff, excluding Snape, all clap politely around them and the students in the rest of the stands cheer. “They’ve gotten too cocky about having a better Seeker and they’ve forgotten that the rest of the Gryffindor team are actually decent!” he laments to Harry. “Don’t let Ron know I said that, I’d never hear the end of it,” he adds after a second.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry replies, although he is imagining the look on Ron’s face if he were to tell him.

Draco gives Harry a half-hearted flare. “I know where you sleep. It would be unwise of you to break that promise.”

“I’m offended you think I would,” Harry says, putting a hand to his chest and giving the other boy a scandalized look.

“You say that, but I know that look you just had on your face. You were thinking about it.”

“Slytherin in possession—Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the—wait a moment—was that the Snitch?”

All throughout the stands, gasps of excitement can be heard as the spectators all try to find the little gold ball soaring through the air.

“It was! Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs has spotted the snitch as Gryffindor Seeker Rilynn Watson flies just behind him—”

Harry is just about to point out that Watson is not, in fact, just behind him and is closer to several meters behind Terence, when a shooting pain in his stomach causes him to double over. All around him there is a flurry of commotion as the staff all stand up to see the end of the game, not noticing Harry clutching his stomach, which feels as if it is being ripped out of him with a hook.

“—Higgs catches the Snitch—SLYTHERIN WINS ONE-HUNDRED FIFTY POINTS TO TEN!”

“Harry, we won! Harry? Professor, something’s wrong with Harry!”

Draco clutched Harry’s arm, but the tightness of his grip doesn’t cause Harry pain anywhere near to the terrible feeling of his intestines slowly slipping out of his body.

“Madame Pomfrey!”

Just as quickly as the pain had come, it disappears, and Harry is left gasping for breath as the staff and Draco all crowd around him, trying to see if he is okay.

“Give the boy some space!” a demanding voice says, which Harry is all too thankful for as everyone save Draco backs away from him. “You too, Malfoy. Let him breathe.”

Reluctantly, Draco lets go of Harry’s arm and Harry finally regains enough breath to sit back up slightly and see the worried looks of everyone around him.

“Do you feel well enough to walk on your own to the Hospital Wing, Potter, or do you need help?” Madame Pomfrey asks.

“Help,” Harry breathes, and he extends a hand to Draco, who is instantly by his side, draping Harry’s arm over his shoulders to support him as they walk.

The walk back to the castle is difficult. Despite Harry no longer feeling the worst of the pain, the memory of it causes him to struggle with his steps and with regaining his breath. The students who had already started to spill out of the stands and head back up to the castle all stop in their tracks as they catch sight of the group of people escorting Harry, although too many staff members surround him for anyone to see him. It’s only when the doors to the Hospital Wing slam behind them that Harry realizes how much noise there had been, all from people chattering about who could have been injured and what possibly happened.

“That bed over there should be suitable, yes, just set him down gently. No, you don’t need to leave, I’m going to need you to help him into some pajamas in a moment.”

“Do you know what has happened to him, Poppy?”

“He was cursed.”

Harry’s eyes snap open from where they had been drifting shut at Snape’s words.

“Is it true?” Professor McGonagall asks. “Who could have cursed him?”

“I’m afraid it is true, Minerva,” Professor Dumbledore says solemnly next to Harry’s head. “Can’t you feel the dark magic? He’s covered in it. It would have taken a very powerful witch or wizard to inflict such a curse on poor Harry, here.”

“Will he be okay, professors?” Draco asks anxiously. Turning his head, Harry sees that Draco is standing by the bed next to Harry’s wringing his hands and wearing a fearful expression on his face.

“He will need a lot of rest, but the curse doesn’t appear to have left any permanent damage. The traces of magic will dissipate within a few days, I’ll just keep him here until it is completely gone to make sure he recovers well, but yes, he will be okay,” Madame Pomfrey answers. “Here, help him into these pajamas, then I’m afraid you must leave him to rest. I will have Professor Snape let you know when Potter is able to receive visitors.”

With a swish of her wand, curtain surround Harry’s bed, blocking everyone from his view until Draco slips through them, holding a pair of soft-looking pajamas for Harry to put on.

“Do you want me to let everyone know what happened?” Draco asks when they manage to get the pajamas on Harry.

“Yeah. Make sure you tell Ron and Hermione, too.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Just because I don’t like that we’re friends with _Gryffindors_ doesn’t mean I won’t tell them when something happens to you.”

“Thank you.” Harry smiles.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some rest. I have to go before Madame Pomfrey starts screeching at me. See you soon, probably with the others.” And with that, Draco slips back out of the privacy curtains.

The heavy doors to the Hospital Wing just barely bang closed before Harry is asleep, tired from everything that had happened during the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s aliiive!!!!!
> 
> Hey everyone, I’m finally back from my unexpected month-long hiatus! Thank you to all of you who didn’t give up on expecting an update! I promised I would never leave this unfinished and I don’t break promises, so keep that in mind for the rest of this year as updates may be a little slow. I’m trying to focus on my music career for a little bit, which limits my time to work on this. I will post new chapters as I finish them, so updates could come either within a couple of days or within a couple of weeks. Make sure to subscribe so you can get notified when I update.
> 
> Please leave comments with your honest opinion on this story! I love positive feedback and respond well to constructive criticism, so don’t be afraid to really tell me what you think. I reply to all comments!
> 
> As always, kudos are appreciated, and again, thank you for being patient with me and my slow writing at the moment!  
> -2MusicLover2


	8. Snape’s Hatred

Harry is free to attend his classes on Monday, much to Hermione’s delight. She had been extremely worried that he would miss too many classes and fall behind, of course making Harry even more anxious to get out. He had finally found someplace where he could enjoy himself, he didn’t want to fail and end up being sent back to live with the Dursleys. He can only imagine the look of disgust on their faces when he would show up on their doorstep with his things.

“I’m just glad I have almost a week to prepare to see Snape again,” Harry says when he and Draco sit down in Charms that morning.

“You’re never going to believe that it wasn’t him, are you?” Draco asks in reply.

“Why wouldn’t it be him? He had asked me to go to the commentator’s box and he made me sit right in front of him. What other reason is there for that other than he wanted to curse me?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “You seem to forget that Snape is my godfather and that I know him well enough to be able to tell you with full confidence that Snape wasn’t the one to curse you.”

“What makes you so sure?” Harry asks.

“Because no matter how much you believe that the best time to curse someone would be at the time that you were cursed, it’s just not true and Snape knows that. No matter how much commotion there is around you, someone is always watching and could turn you in. Remember that.”

“Then why has no one been turned in?”

“Lack of evidence,” Draco says with a shrug. “They don’t believe what they saw. Fear. It could be anything, really. Then there’s also the chance that no one  _ did _ see what happened. That doesn’t matter, though, because Snape isn’t a git and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to curse you in such a public place.”

“What evidence do you have of that?” Harry almost begs, desperate to prove his friend wrong.

“What evidence do you have that he cursed you?” Draco smirks at Harry’s inability to come up with an answer. “Like I said before, Snape is my godfather. He’s the one that told me that rule, he wouldn’t break his own rules.”

“Well—”

“Misters Potter and Malfoy, I would like to start my class now. Preferably with your full attention,” Professor Flitwick announces.

“Yes, sir,” Harry says solemnly, hoping he would be able to finish this conversation after class.

~*~

They don’t resume their conversation after class, or even any time that week. Every time Harry thinks he will be able to bring it up again, Draco seems to have some sudden important task he has to complete. Finally, Harry decides the only way to talk again is to corner Draco and force him into the conversation, and what better time to do that than in Potions. Draco would never get mad and storm off or find some way to start avoiding Harry, not in his favorite class. The only problem is the fact that Snape might overhear.

“Shut up about it, will you? I’m not discussing this here,” Draco hisses over their steaming and boiling cauldron.

“Fine,” Harry says, but he refuses to give up. “I’ll stop talking about it in here if you agree to talk after class. We never finished our conversation from Monday and I think that we should.”

“Yes, well, I think you should cut up those flobberworms in silence, or at least with a different topic of conversation,” Draco replies.

“And I think,” says the cold voice of Snape, causing Harry to jump and Draco to freeze slightly before his motions become more precise and elegant, “that you should get to work before you fail this lesson and I have to give you detention, Mr. Potter.”

“Of course, sir,” Draco says in his slickest voice. “We were just about finished. Harry just has to cut the flobberworms so we can add them and then we will be ready to turn it in.”

“Very well,” Snape says, seemingly displeased that he could find nothing on their work to criticize. “Oh, and Mr. Potter, I must regretfully inform you that you will not be attending any more Quidditch matches until further notice. We don’t want our most prized student getting cursed again, do we?”

“Thank you, sir,” Draco says hurriedly, not giving Harry a chance to respond to Snape.

“But—” Harry starts, only for Draco to start talking over him.

“We really must get to working on our potion, sir, we don’t have much time left in class.”

“No, you don’t,” Snape says, regarding Draco as if he knows Draco is up to something and he will figure it out. “Carry on, then.”

As soon as Snape is on the other side of the classroom, reprimanding Seamus Finnegan for exploding his and Dean Thomas’s potion yet again, Harry turns to Draco to start complaining.

“He can’t do that!” he exclaims.

“Be quiet and cut the flobberworms, would you? We can talk after class, just because he’s busy with Finnegan doesn’t mean he won’t hear you.”

“Fine,” Harry says, although he is not fine. He was just told by his Head of House, who also happens to be his least favorite teacher, that he was no longer allowed to attend Quidditch matches. In Harry’s mind, there is no way that Snape could have come to this decision based on Harry’s well-being. This is all out of anger that he had failed to curse Harry at the last match.

He finishes cutting up the flobberworms, although they are extremely sloppy out of his anger, and Draco gives him a look of disapproval and disgust when Harry dumps them in the cauldron rather unceremoniously.

“Harry! You can’t just put mutilated flobberworms in your potion like that! You could ruin it!” Hermione exclaims from the other side of the table.

Draco, who is frantically stirring the potion, huffs out a breath of frustration. “He would have ruined it if I wasn’t his partner. Luckily it’s simple enough to fix, just a little more stirring than I would have had to do if he cut the flobberworms correctly.”

“Mister Malfoy,” Snape says from right behind the two boys, but Draco stays focused on the potion, not looking up at the Professor until the potion has turned the sickly shade of green that it is meant to be.

“Yes, sir?” Draco asks.

“Would you care to explain to me why you were stirring that put when the last step is to add the flobberworms and take it off the heat?” Snape questions with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, you see, sir, I would have done the steps exactly as they are written out, however when the flobberworms were added they were a little… messy. I had to stir the potion to correct it.”

Snape regards Draco for a moment before he waves his wand and a glass vial whizzes across the dungeon. Another wave of his wand and some of their potion floats out of the cauldron and into the vial for Snape’s inspection. “Stay after class. Both of you,” Snape says icily before he stalks back to his desk just as the bell rings for the end of the class.

Ron shoots Harry multiple sympathetic looks as they all clean up their stations, most students rushing to get out of the dungeon while Harry spends as much time as he can cleaning in order to avoid talking to Snape.

“Mister Potter,” Snape says, cutting through the silence as Harry slowly scrubs the table clean. “Mister Potter, there are spells that work just as well for cleaning that, and they’re much faster.”

“I didn’t want to taint the workspace with magic, professor,” Harry replies. He had heard Draco saying something similar before and he figures it is a good enough excuse.

“Any cleaning spells you know would not be powerful enough to do that. Not to mention the potions brewed in this room aren’t volatile enough to be affected by it. It would, however, be a different story if this was a N.E.W.T. level class,” Snape says, and Harry is a little shocked by the lack of insults and the fact that the professor seems to actually be trying to help him. “ _ Scourgify _ .”

The table in front of Harry magically wipes itself clean and he reluctantly steps up to Snape’s desk, Draco not far behind him.

“What is it you wanted to talk to us about, sir?” Draco asks.

“It has come to my attention that you have been tutoring Mister Weasley in Potions, Draco.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Unfortunately, while Mister Weasley has slightly improved, Mister Potter here is not doing well in class. As much as I disapprove of this choice in acquaintances, I must ask that you start tutoring Mister Potter as well. Perhaps this can be what you do instead of attending any future Quidditch matches,” Snape says, his characteristic sneer turning into a smirk.

Draco’s mouth falls open slightly. “I… I was still planning on going to the Quidditch matches.”

“I’m doing perfectly fine in this class! Why do I need a tutor?” Harry demands.

“Is that so, Potter?” Snape asks. “If you are doing so well in my class, then explain to me why you  _ failed _ the last essay you turned in.”

“I—I—”

“Professor, if I may ask, why do we have to do this during Quidditch matches? Surely we could use other time to study,” Draco interjects. “I’m not banned from going too, am I?”

“No, you are not,” Snape says. “It was merely a suggestion.”

Draco nods. “Good. Thank you. Harry can just join in on my sessions with Weasley.”

“Very well. That was all. I expect to see improvement from you next lesson, Potter,” says Snape, ushering the boys out of the dungeon classroom with a careless wave of his hand as he starts to inspect each of the vials of potion that had been turned in to him at the end of the period.

Harry spends the entirety of the walk to the Great Hall for lunch in silent fury. How could Snape punish him for being the victim of an attack? And why did he all of the sudden need tutoring? There was no way he had failed that essay, Draco had helped him with it and both Draco and Hermione fought over being the one to edit it. This is purely out of hatred and spite from Snape and, unfortunately, Harry isn’t sure that there is anything he can do to stop it.

When they arrive at the Slytherin table to find Ron, Hermione, Blaise, Pansy, Theodore, Vincent, Gregory, and Millicent waiting for them at their usual seats, Draco gives a subtle shake of his head at their curious expressions.

No one has to ask, however.

“Clearly Snape will do anything to show his hatred of me. How can any of you be sure that he’s not the one who cursed me?”

“Not this again,” Pansy moans, dropping her fork into her plate of salad and putting her face in her hands.

“Yeah, mate, sorry, but I’m with Pansy on this. You really don’t have any proof that Snape cursed you whereas there is a sea of proof stating otherwise,” Ron says.

“What proof do you have that he didn’t curse me?” Harry asks.

Ron looks at Draco.

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I already went through this once this week and that is enough for me. I’m not having that fight again,” Draco says, shaking his head vehemently.

Harry snaps his fingers. “You said we could continue that conversation and we never did! Now is the perfect opportunity to continue it.”

Draco sighs and pushes his bowl of soup away from him. “Fine. It won’t be much of a conversation, but fine. Where did we leave off? Oh yeah, I gave you some evidence that Snape wasn’t the one to curse you, you denied the evidence, I gave you even more evidence, and then Flitwick told us to stop talking. I believe we left off with you denying the evidence again, so, go right ahead.”

“You said Snape was the one who told you that rule of evilness or whatever you want to call it,” Harry starts, not exactly sure where he wants to go with the argument now that they are having it.

“Yes,” Draco replies with an eye roll.

“Well, what if he told you that because he knew he was going to curse me and he wanted to make sure he wasn’t a suspect?” Harry suggests although he doesn’t believe it himself. To be honest, he is only continuing with his accusation because of his stubborn refusal to give in and say that maybe Snape hadn’t been the one to curse him.

“Do you even hear the things that come out of your mouth?” Pansy asks before Draco can make a rebuttal.

“Yes, and I know it’s a bad argument, but I’m sure that he was the one to do it! He hates me, for some reason! Just today he banned me from going to Quidditch matches and he told me I have to start being tutored because I’m failing Potions!”

Hermione gasps. “You’re failing? But, Draco and I have been editing your papers and Draco is your partner for practical lessons! How are you failing?”

“Exactly! He’s deliberately failing me just because he doesn’t like me. Who’s to say he didn’t curse me as well!” Harry exclaims, glad he had finally found a point to make.

“There is a large gap between deliberately failing a student and cursing a student, Harry. Sure, failing a student for your own purposes crosses a certain line, but the line that is crossed when you curse someone… I don’t think even Snape would be willing to cross that line,” Hermione reasons.

“What makes you think he wouldn’t?” Harry asks.

“I would like to counter with ‘what makes you think he would’.”

Everyone in their group turns to see Holly moving away from her friends to join them.

“Do you even know what we’re talking about?” Pansy asks her sister.

Holly shakes her head and steals a bite of Pansy’s forgotten salad, taking the entire plate when no one comments on it.

“Not a clue,” Holly says with a careless smile.

“I aspire to be just like you,” Draco says, his tone only barely sarcastic and mocking.

“You’re well on your way, kiddo. Now. What is it you all were so heartedly discussing?”

Blaise groans. “I thought we might be able to change the topic when you came over. I was looking forward to a change of topic.”

“I agree. This is getting bloody annoying,” Ron says.

“It’s only annoying because Harry is too stubborn to just say that Snape didn’t curse him!” says Draco.

“Who says he didn’t?” Holly asks.

“See!” Harry practically shouts in his excitement. “Someone agrees with me.”

“Why do you have to encourage things like this?” Pansy laments.

“Oh, Harry, honey, you have the completely wrong idea.” Holly shakes her head then pats him gently on the cheek. “I don’t agree with you in the slightest. Snape would never harm a student, especially from his house. I just think it’s good that you’re standing up for what you believe in.”

“No,” Blaise counters. “You just want us to keep arguing because you’re bored with  _ your _ friends so you think we’ll entertain you.”

Holly laughs. “I’ve always known you were smart. Well, now that you’ve figured me out, I must go and create entertainment elsewhere. So, in the words of my favorite poltergeist, ‘farewell, ickle firsties’!”

Hermione frowns at the older girl as she leaves. “I don’t understand her.”

“No one truly does,” Pansy says solemnly.

“But she did say that Snape would never harm a student,” Ron says.

“Have you seen the way he treats the Gryffindors? I’d say that’s pretty harmful,” Harry argues.

“He would never  _ physically _ harm a student,” Pansy amends.

“Look, Harry,” Ron says. “I’m all for saying that Snape is an evil person and was probably a Death Eater—”

“A what?”

“We don’t talk about that.”

“Shut it.”

“You should leave.”

Ron leans back in shock at the angry faces surrounding him. “Um… touchy subject?”

Pansy stands up. “You should go back to your noble little lions.”

Harry looks around, confused, as his Slytherin friends all stand up and grab their things, looking at him expectedly as if he should follow. Hermione is wearing a resigned look as she grabs Ron’s arm and starts to pull him back towards their House’s table. Harry slowly gets up and walks with his housemates back to their common room in a stony silence.

“Uh…” he says when they enter the empty common room and sit down in front of the roaring fire. “What was that about?”

He is responded to only by the crackling of the fire.

“Seriously, what’s going on?”

The outburst of heated debate that follows is not what Harry expected.

“Who’s to say that he doesn’t start accusing  _ us _ of being the ones to curse him?”

“He  _ is _ in our house, why shouldn’t we tell him?”

“He wasn’t raised on our side!”

“He wasn’t raised on the other side either!”

“But his parents—”

“Hey!” Harry shouts, effectively ending the discussion. “I want to know what a Death Eater is, why you all seemed so offended by it, and what it has to do with my parents. You can either tell me, or I’ll find out on my own.”

Draco purses his lips. “Fine,” he says. “Back when we were babies… when the Dark Lord was still prevalent and the wizarding world was at war, there was a group of witches and wizards who followed the Dark Lord.”

Harry stays silent, knowing all too well that any comment from him could make Draco stop talking.

“His followers called themselves the Death Eaters. They did a lot of things that aren’t exactly legal, but really, so did the other side. That’s what happens in a war.

“After the Dark Lord fell, however, the Ministry of Magic decided to punish everyone who was believed to be a Death Eater. They were thrown into Azkaban and their only hope of not dying there or receiving the kiss was to give up more names.

“Some people managed to get out of serving time in Azkaban by either claiming to be a spy or by claiming to be under the Imperius Curse. Not many did get away with it, though.

“Most of the Death Eaters had been in Slytherin during their time at Hogwarts, although not all of them. Because of them and a few other Dark wizards and witches, Slytherin has earned the reputation of being the House of Dark magic. Some witches and wizards believe that all of Slytherin House practices Dark magic and that the other three houses are pure. That’s not the case, but I digress.

“Unfortunately, everyone in this room other than you, Harry, has at least one parent that was a Death Eater. Not even we know the reasons behind it, however, so don’t go asking why our parents followed the Dark Lord, they just did. Some of them continue to live by the standards the Dark Lord set forth in the privacy of their homes while they act like the rest of the wizarding world in public. Some of them live by the same rules both at home and in public. All of them, however, pretend that their time as Death Eaters had never happened.

“As for what this all has to do with your parents: they were on the opposite side of the war. Your parents and our parents fought against each other. Our parents might even have been involved in the plan to kill you and your parents. That’s what it all has to do with you. I expect Snape will be glad to hear that you want to change houses.”

Harry sits in silence for a moment, letting Draco’s words and the meanings of them wash over him as he bathes in the green and red glow from the lake and the fire. He doesn’t look at any of his housemates to try and see what they think of it all. He has become blind to all except for the twisting flames reflected in the crystal coffee table in front of him, not even noticing that he had slid out of his armchair and on to the emerald green rug adorning the floor. Not even his own thoughts can reach past his deaf ears to dance through his mind. At this moment, Harry is well and truly dead to everything around him.

After a long moment, Harry looks up to his friends’ almost defensive posture. His eyes trace over Pansy and the way her weight is all resting on her right foot, her arms crossed over her stomach in a careless and somewhat intimidating way that is also slightly guarded. They fall on Blaise and Theodore, huddled together as usual, although both of their mouths are sealed shut in thin lines instead of Blaise’s running in the quiet, one-sided conversation Harry has grown accustomed to. They pass over Millicent, her eyebrows furrowed and jaw set as she stands stoically, resolutely, not at all jiggling with the energy that normally consumes her. Finally, Harry’s eyes land on Vincent and Gregory as they flank an emotionless Draco, ready to attack or be attacked as if Harry were just another outsider.

Without saying a word to anyone, Harry stands and walks the short length of corridor to his dormitory where he climbs into his four-poster and slips the hangings closed around him, leaving him undisturbed by the outside world yet drowning in his own thoughts for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, everyone!
> 
> I have been on a roll with my writing lately (I hope that didn’t just jinx it) and I’m already almost done with chapter 9 as well, so be on the lookout for that in the next couple of days. I have a lot more time now for writing because I only have one exam left and I will be taking that this morning, then I’m free for the rest of 2019!
> 
> With this chapter, even though I was on a roll, I did still rewrite it, but I didn’t even slow down in my writing process so I think that means I’m still good to go. I still have all of my old pre-rewritten chapters in a little folder that I have named “Trash Chapters” and I’ve been thinking that maybe at the end of this book I could release them as special features. Idk, lemme know what you guys think and if that’s something you’d want to see, because some of them take this story in a completely different direction than what it’s gone.
> 
> As always, remember to subscribe to be notified when I update and to leave kudos, because I always appreciate them! I reply to all comments, so let me know what you think, whether it be good or bad. I can handle constructive criticisms, so don’t be afraid.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this! Watch out for chapter 9 which should be posted sometime late this week.  
> -2MusicLover2


	9. Magical Mirrors

Harry doesn’t emerge from within his bed until that night when he hears the door open and close and his roommates trying to get around to bed without disturbing him. He slowly pulls back his hangings and then just sits on his bed, waiting, until finally, Theodore notices and nudges Blaise, which attracts the attention of the other boys as well.

“I won’t lie and say this doesn’t change anything,” Harry starts, his voice weak. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to continue being your friend.”

This statement is received in various ways throughout the room. Theodore nods his head, Vincent and Gregory both offer weak smiles. Blaise hums his acknowledgment and climbs into his bed, leaving the hangings open. Draco, however, doesn’t move or look up from the spot on his quilt that he had been staring at since Harry opened his hangings.

“That’s all, I guess,” Harry says, unsure of what else  _ could _ be said.

No one shows any sign of acknowledgment other than the fact that they all leave their hangings open as they sleep that night.

~*~

Harry is up before anyone else in their dorm. He realizes how many questions he actually has, and his curiosity wins out over his anger, so he sits on the foot of Draco’s bed, waiting for everyone to wake.

“Bloody hell!” Draco exclaims when he opens his eyes to see Harry sitting on his bed, his voice cracking slightly.

“Good morning,” Harry says, although his lack of cheeriness suggests that it is not, in fact, a good morning.

Draco sits up and looks at the rest of the boys with fear in his eyes. “Were you trying to kill me in my sleep and I just woke up before you could, or… I don’t actually know any other explanation for why you’d be here.”

“No,” Harry replies. “I have questions. About what you told me.”

“Uh-huh,” Draco says, still looking mildly terrified but not as tense as he had been before. “What exactly would these questions be?”

“Well. First off… do you honestly believe I would want to switch houses?” Harry asks, and a chorus of yes’s resonate throughout the room. “Okay, then. Um… well, why do you call Voldemort ‘the Dark Lord’?”

Everyone flinches at the sound of Voldemort’s name.

“Were you not listening last night? Our parents were Death Eaters. ‘The Dark Lord’ is what Death Eaters had to call him. It’s just what we’ve grown up with,” Draco explains, shrugging at the end.

“So you aren’t all Death Eaters yourselves?” Harry asks.

“No,” Blaise says, and Harry looks over to see the boy shaking his head. “The Dark Lord  _ did _ fall when we were infants. I’m sure if he was still in power we would have to become Death Eaters when we became of age. Luckily we don’t have to worry about that, though.”

“Okay,” Harry nods, already feeling better about his friends’ involvement in this whole mess. “You mentioned something about Death Eaters going to someplace called Ak… Ask… I actually don’t really remember, but you said some of them received a kiss there. What’s so bad about that?”

“Azkaban,” Draco says. “It’s the wizarding world’s prison. Extremely high security, it’s built out in the middle of the North Sea. The guards there are called dementors. They’re magical creatures that feed on the happiness of humans. Even Muggles are affected by their presence, although Muggles can’t see them. They’re really unpleasant creatures, I can’t imagine ever meeting one. As for the kiss… it’s when a dementor sucks out someone’s soul through their mouth, leaving that person just a shell. It’s worse than death, really. They only do it by command of the Ministry, though, and it hasn’t been performed in years. I understand why, it’s despicable to do that to a person, it doesn’t matter what they did. I wouldn’t even wish it on my worst enemy.”

“That’s…” Harry doesn’t quite know how to respond. “Um… What about the… Imperius Curse? What’s that?”

Draco purses his lips, unsure of how to explain it. “It’s like… the Ministry banned that and two other curses, they’re called the Unforgivable Curses. The Imperius Curse allows a witch or wizard to… not necessarily control someone, because some are able to resist it, but it’s more like they can strongly suggest to do something and chances are that person will do it. It’s extremely hard to resist, though. Not many are able to do it, and even those that can fail when a powerful Dark witch or wizard casts it on them. The other two curses are the Curciatus Curse, which causes the victim immense pain and if it is used improperly or too frequently can cause someone to go insane or even die, and  _ Avada Kedavra _ , the Killing Curse.”

“Did… did Voldemort—” the boys all flinch “—is that what he used on my parents?” Harry asks although he is sure he already knows the answer.

“Most likely,” Blaise says solemnly.

Harry purses his lips and nods his head slowly. “And  _ was _ Snape a Death Eater?”

“Harry,” Draco says. “Harry, you would not believe how many Death Eaters there were.”

“Was Snape a Death Eater?” Harry asks again, more forcefully this time.

“Yes, but, that doesn’t mean he cursed you, so please don’t assume—”

“I wasn’t going to. I believe you that he didn’t do it. I just—I just wanted to know.”

The boys all sit in silence for a few minutes, taking in Harry’s revelation, then Blaise gets up out of his bed and starts rummaging through his trunk for clothes.

“Well, since you woke us all up so early on a Saturday, how about we take advantage of our day off and the fact that we don’t have any classes by exploring the castle some more?” he says when he finally manages to find an outfit to his liking.

Harry laughs. “Don’t you think we’d have found everything there is to find by now?”

“Not even close,” Draco replies with a smirk, keen to put this whole thing behind them.

~*~

“You lot sure do seem much happier this morning,” Holly says when the boys enter the common room laughing and talking as if the conversations from the night before and this morning had never happened. “Oh, Harry, you should have seen them all yesterday. They were just plain  _ miserable _ without you. Even Vince and Greg were affected by it; they didn’t touch their dinner!”

As if to make Holly’s point even clearer, Gregory’s stomach growls and he looks down at it with a frown.

“I regret that,” he says. “My stomach hurts.”

Holly laughs. “Well, go to the kitchens, then. We’ve still got an hour before breakfast even starts.”

“An hour?” Vincent asks, sounding almost pained to even think he might have to wait for food.

“What are you doing up so early, then?” Draco asks the older girl.

“Reserving my spot. I’ve already got enough food for the whole day, and I’ve got all of my homework to do while I sit here,” she answers, seeming pleased with herself.

“But—that’s against the rules. There’s a time limit for those seats,” Harry says with a frown.

“Don’t worry, my dear boy. I have a plan for that.”

The look on Holly’s face scares Harry slightly, and he quickly makes his way out of the common room so he’s not around to see whatever her plan is, his friends all close behind him.

“Is it just me, or can she be scary at times?” Harry asks, which earns him murmurs of agreement from his friends.

“Definitely. We should probably stay away from the common room today, although I’m sure we’ll hear about whatever it is she plans on doing at our next house meeting,” Blaise says. “Who’s going to tickle the pear?”

“Oh, Blaise, I was hoping you would this time!” Draco mock-whines. “You never do it!”

Blaise rolls his eyes. “I have more dignity than some of you.”

“I want food!” Gregory exclaims, and he pushes his way through the group so he can reach the picture. Draco bursts out laughing.

“I thought it would be funny to see Blaise tickling the pear, but I was wrong! This is so much better!” he says through his laughter.

When the door opens, they are instantly surrounded by house-elves, all falling over each other to help them.

“Young Masters! Young Masters, what is it you would be liking this morning?” one of the little elves squeaks.

“Sweet rolls!” Vincent says, making grabby hands at the tray already on its way to them.

“A feast for breakfast!” says Gregory, who is equally as excited to get some food.

The house-elves all scramble to get together a suitable breakfast feast while the boys all stand there eating sweet rolls and fruit.

“Could you pack a basket of food for lunch, too?” Draco asks in between bites of his apple.

“Of course, Young Master!” an elf squeaks and a new group forms to prepare their lunch.

It’s no time at all before the elves are satisfied enough with their work to give the food to the boys, who don’t even check it in favor of leaving the kitchens to get a head start on their exploring.

“So, where should we start?” Draco asks when the make it to the end of the corridor and are faced with making the decision of which way to go.

Theodore starts walking ahead of the group, turning left.

“This way it is, then,” Blaise says, and they all follow Theodore.

They end up searching through empty classrooms, finding nothing more than dusty desks and chairs with every door they open. That is, until about three hours after lunch when they walk into a classroom to find a large ornate mirror standing in the middle, the desks and chairs all pushed along the outer walls of the room.

“Okay, this could be interesting,” Draco says, dropping his apple core on the ground and walking further into the room.

Harry is entranced by the mirror and is the first to make it close enough to look in it; what he sees makes him gasp and look around the room.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Blaise asks, not quite trusting the mirror and refusing to step past the doorway of the classroom.

“I… look!” Harry points at the mirror. “That’s… that’s my family!”

Draco steps up behind Harry and looks into the mirror over Harry’s shoulder.

“Harry, it’s just us.”

“No, see, that’s my mum, right there, and that’s my dad. Those people must all be my grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins,” Harry says, pointing at the people he sees in the mirror. “You must not be looking in it properly. Go on, stand right here.”

He moves out of the way of Draco, who centers himself within the mirror’s frame and tilts his head to the side as he looks in it, his eyes widening slightly before squinting as he examines the mirror.

“ _ Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi _ …” Draco reads quietly. “It must mean something. A spell maybe?”

“What? You see them now, don’t you?” Harry asks eagerly.

“See who? No, Harry, I don’t see your family. I… this mirror is… it has some kind of magical property to it, I just don’t know what… why isn’t it…?”

“Well, of course it’s magic,” Harry says. “It showed me my dead parents.”

“Guys, I don’t think we should be here,” Blaise says from his spot still in the doorway.

“If we weren’t supposed to be here the door would have been locked,” says Harry as he steps back up to the mirror.

Draco starts walking around it, inspecting every inch. He runs gentle fingers along the frame, mouthing wordlessly as he goes. Both he and Harry seem completely oblivious to the hesitance and outright fear displayed by the other members of their group.

“Seriously,” Blaise says. “We really need to leave. I don’t trust that mirror.”

Draco sneers at Blaise. “It’s a bloody  _ mirror _ . What is there not to trust?”

“Uh, how about the fact that it’s  _ magic _ and that it’s just sitting here in an unused classroom, just waiting for someone to stumble upon it?” Blaise says in a superior tone, challenging Draco.

The two boys face off silently as Gregory, Vincent, and Theodore watch on and as Harry continues to look at his family through the mirror.

Draco notices Harry’s lack of attention on anything but the mirror and realizes Blaise is right, there is something wrong with it. He sighs, slightly disappointed that he can't study the mirror further, and heads out of the classroom, grabbing Harry’s wrist as he passes and dragging him behind him.

“Hey! I wasn’t done looking at that!” Harry exclaims.

“Well, now you are,” Draco replies. “Blaise was right. That mirror  _ is _ suspicious. You would have been happy to sit in front of it until you died. Probably would’ve if Blaise hadn’t been here to point it out and if I hadn’t dragged you away.”

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear it, I just want to get as far away from there as possible,” Blaise says, and as they turn the corner, they stop dead in their tracks as they almost run into Professor Dumbledore.

“Where might you boys be off to in such a hurry?” Dumbledore asks, his voice chipper and not at all accusatory.

“We, uh, we… we were just looking around the castle, Professor, you know, seeing what all we might find, and uh… we… now we’re here,” says Harry much too nervously.

Professor Dumbledore looks down his long crooked nose over his half-moon spectacles at each boy in turn. “You wouldn’t have been looking for anything on the third floor, would you?”

Draco speaks up to keep Harry’s nervousness from getting them into any trouble. “No, Professor. We know the third floor is off limits to students.”

“We did, however, find something we’re not sure we were meant to find,” Blaise cuts in and Dumbledore gives him a curious look. “The door to the classroom was unlocked, so we went in to see what was inside, and in the middle of the room was a… a mirror. Professor, I wouldn’t go near it because it felt Dark to me, but Harry and Draco did. Harry saw his dead family in the mirror and Draco… well, he never said what he saw. They were both captivated by it, though, and I didn’t like how it seemed to be affecting them, so I made everyone leave. What… what was it, sir?”

“Ah… I believe you gentlemen have found the Mirror of Erised. Don’t worry, Mister Zabini, the mirror is not a Dark object, only a very powerful one. Do not mistake power for Darkness,” Dumbledore says, the hint of a smile on his face.

“I know Dark magic, Professor; that room was full of it. Maybe the mirror isn’t Dark, but something in there was. It would be safer for everyone if that room was locked off from.”

“Perhaps,” says Dumbledore. “It is not a top concern of mine, however, as the mirror will be moved to a new location over the holidays. If what you say about the Dark magic is true, then I am afraid someone is tampering with the mirror and using it for their own nefarious purposes. With the mirror moved, anyone who has performed magic on it will no longer be able to do so. Now, how about you gentlemen go off and have some fun on your weekend off. Leave the mirror to me.”

~*~

“We’re having an emergency house meeting tonight. They announced it at lunch.”

“Wow, such a nice way to greet us Pansy. No ‘hello’? No ‘where have you been all day’? No ‘we were lost without you’? No—”

“Okay, we get it,” Pansy says, cutting Draco off on his sarcastic rant. “I just assumed Potter had killed you all and then run off, so I decided to move on with my life. I figured that’s what this meeting would be about.”

Draco throws an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Nah, Harry and us, we’re all cool again. We have no idea what this house meeting is about either. Two weeks in a row? Merlin. Our house must be cursed or something. No offense, Harry, bad word choice.”

“Two weeks in a row?” Harry asks, choosing to ignore the rest of Draco’s statement.

“Did we forget to tell you?” Blaise asks. “There was a house meeting after the game last week to congratulate the team on their win and also to give a sort of debrief on what happened to you.”

“Wait,” Harry says. “Everyone knows about that?”

Draco laughs. “Did you really think it was just us and the staff that knew?”

“Well, kinda,” Harry says sheepishly.

“So what would this meeting be about?” Blaise questions.

“That’s just it. No one knows,” says Pansy. “We had all gone to breakfast and when we went back to the common room we couldn’t get in. The password wouldn’t work. Then at lunch Gemma and Jake announces that there would be an emergency house meeting after dinner. There’s no way those two things aren’t related but no one knows if the house meeting is about us being locked out or if we are locked out because of the house meeting.”

“Pansy,” Draco says, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. “Your sister is a genius.”

Pansy snorts. “Okay, sure. What exactly does that have to do with anything?”

“No, really. She’s a bloody genius,” Draco says. “Remember that one house meeting where they added a whole bunch of rules to the chairs by the big fireplace in the common room? One of the rules was that your  _ physical _ body had to be in the seat for you to claim it. Well, that made me a bit curious, so I did some digging and I found out that your sister is the reason for that rule. Holly had somehow made a double of herself that was basically a ghost. You could see it but it was on a different plane of existence. Then this morning, as we were leaving to go exploring, Holly was already by the fire and we asked her how she planned on keeping those seats and she just said she had a plan. This must have been her plan! She found out how to change the password to the door and locked everyone out while they were at breakfast!”

Everyone looks at Draco, shocked not only that he had most likely figured it out, but also that Holly had done those things.

“Has she been hiding her intelligence from us this whole time?” Pansy finally asks. “Those wouldn’t be easy things to do. Oh, Mum and Dad won’t be happy when they find out that Holly could do  _ this _ but barely pass her classes.”

“Hang on,” Blaise says. “This  _ is _ only speculation after all. We don’t know for a fact that she has done this.”

“Well, let’s find out then. Come on, let’s see if we can get back into the common room,” Draco exclaims.

It seems that they aren’t the only ones who are eager to find out what’s going on, as there is already a crowd of Slytherins waiting outside of their common room when they get there. More and more keep arriving until at last it seems that every Slytherin is waiting outside, and the first years are shocked to see Holly push her way through to the front.

That is, until she says the password that makes the door open.

“Merlin’s saggy tits.”

Murmurs of excitement, outrage, and surprise race through the Slytherins. She had actually managed to change the password and lock them out of their own common room.

Holly Parkinson is terrifyingly brilliant and evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I don’t have all that much to say today other than I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please leave kudos, as they are always appreciated and remember to subscribe so you can be notified when a new chapter is out! I reply to all comments, so be sure to leave one saying what you liked or even what you didn’t like, I won’t get offended!
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> Thanks again for reading!  
> -2MusicLover2


	10. To Malfoy Manor

None of the other houses find out about what Holly did. In order to keep Slytherin house from losing hundreds of points over it, it has to remain a house secret. It’s almost as if everyone has forgotten it even happened.

Harry hasn’t forgotten, though. Nor has he forgotten about the other major thing that happened that day: finding the Mirror of Erised.

Luckily, Draco is just as eager to go back to the mirror, which is what has Draco, Harry, and Ron searching for the mirror the next Saturday instead of going to the Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match.

“So, let me get this straight,” Ron says as they walk through the empty corridors in search of the classroom with the mirror. “Last weekend, the Slytherins all went exploring so you could pretend you weren’t still hacked off with each other. During this little trip, you all found a whole bunch of empty classrooms and one classroom with a mirror that Zabini thinks is dangerous and which Dumbledore all but confirmed is actually dangerous. You two were really intrigued by this thing, though, and in order for anyone not to get suspicious I need to come with you so we can see it under the pretense of a Potions tutoring session?”

“Sounds about right,” Draco says, smiling. He pushes open the door he had stopped in front of and walks in to be delighted that the mirror is still there. At least Blaise’s pestering didn’t cause Dumbledore to move the mirror early.

“So, uh, can I just leave then?” Ron asks.

Draco gives him an incredulous look. “No, you can’t just leave! If someone were to find you they would know we’re not actually studying Potions and then Blaise would find out and I don’t want to deal with that mess.”

“Come on, Ron,” Harry says. “You don’t have to look in the mirror, but at least come inside.”

“If you think I’m going to come in and  _ not _ look in the mirror, you better think again,” Ron says, and he barges through the doorway and stops right in front of the mirror. “Bloody hell! Is that me?”

“I don’t know. We can’t see what you see. It looks different for everyone,” Harry says.

“I’m—I’m Head Boy! And Quidditch Captain! I’ve won the House Cup!” Ron says, looking into the mirror with excitement.

Draco’s eyes widen and a grin forms into his face. “Hang on, move over. I need to see something.”

“No, you’ve had a turn. You can wait!”

Draco and Ron start fighting over who gets to stand in front of the mirror, pushing and shoving each other away and trying to center themselves. Not wanting to be stuck without a turn in front of the mirror, Harry joins in the fight, which quickly leaves the three boys sprawled out on the floor, heaving to catch their breath while they argue feebly.

“I just… I need to try…” Draco pants.

“My… my parents… see them…” croaks Harry.

“The cup…” is all Ron manages to get out.

After a few more moments in which the boys struggle to catch their breath, they finally sit up. Harry and Ron both clutch their stomachs with one hand and lean back on the other hand while Draco leans forward and rests his arms and head on his knees.

“So,” Draco says, tilting his head sideways and resting his temple on his arms so he could better see the other two boys. “You two can take turns looking into the mirror. I don’t need to look directly in the mirror to see if what I think is true, so I can just look over your shoulder or something. Sound good?”

“Well, why were you fighting us, then?” Ron asks with a frown.

Draco shrugs and a small smile appears on his face. “Heat of the moment?” he suggests, and Harry rolls his eyes and jokingly pushes him over, which causes Draco to push right back. Before Harry can retaliate any further, however, Draco raises a hand and says, “Uh-uh. I’m not fighting again, not enough energy exists in the world for that. Now go take your turn in front of your mirror.”

“Why does Harry get to go first?” Ron questions with an offended tone of voice.

“Because he likes me better,” Harry says with a smile and then sticks his tongue out at Ron as he steps in front of the mirror.

“He’s not wrong,” Draco says.

Ron sticks his tongue out at Harry and then at Draco, crossing his arms before sticking his tongue out at Harry again.

As Harry stands in front of the mirror looking at all of his relatives and trying to see similarities between himself and them, he barely registers the conversation between his two friends.

“What is it you’re trying to do exactly?” Ron asks as Draco pulls a piece of parchment out of his bag and sits on the floor behind Harry, writing something down as he occasionally glances up at the mirror.

Draco takes a second to look at what he has written before he answers Ron. “I think…” Draco stands up and holds the parchment up behind Harry so that he can see it in the mirror. “Ha! I was right!”

“Right about what?” Ron asks, seemingly startled by Draco’s sudden excitement, while Harry seems unfazed and continues to look into the mirror.

“Read the parchment,” Draco says in reply, handing it over to Ron.

Ron gives Draco an incredulous look. “I don’t speak whatever language this is.”

“Look at it in the mirror.”

Ron stands where Draco had been moments before and holds the parchment up just as Draco had done. “ _ I show not your face, but your heart’s desire _ ,” Ron reads. “So, what, this mirror shows us the thing we want most?”

“Exactly!” Draco exclaims. “Harry has never known his family and what he wants more than anything is to see them, so that’s what the mirror shows him. You—”

“I’m going to cut you off right there. I don’t really feel like having my deepest desires explained to me and in return, you don’t have to tell me what you see when you look in the mirror,” Ron says.

Draco nods. “That… seems fair.”

“So,” Ron says, breaking the awkward silence that falls over them. “I say it’s my turn. What do you think, Harry? Harry…? Harry!”

Harry startles and looks away from the mirror. “What?” he snaps and Ron purses his lips.

“Okay, maybe I don’t want to take my turn after all. I think Zabini might have had a point when he said this mirror was dangerous,” Ron says.

“Yeah,” Draco agrees. “Come on, Harry. The game is probably over soon, we should head back to the common room.”

“You two go ahead. I’m fine right here,” Harry replies as he looks back into the mirror.

“Harry, we really need to go,” Draco says, but Harry shows no sign of even hearing him. “Please don’t make me drag you out of here. If I do you won’t like it and I really don’t feel like fighting with you right now.”

Still, Harry stares into the mirror, seemingly oblivious to anything other than the image reflected back at him.

Draco and Ron exchange a look, then Draco steps up to Harry and grabs both of his wrists, pinning them behind Harry’s back and making it harder for Harry to retaliate too harshly in his struggle as Draco walks them out of the classroom.

“The less you struggle, the easier this will be for both of us—Weasley, could you grab my bag? I would, but my hands are kind of full—I swear to Merlin, Harry if you step on my foot one more time I will hex you into next week without a single regret.”

“You can’t—can’t just push me around like this. I was—I was looking—let go of me!” shouts Harry, his voice echoing in the empty corridors.

“Shut up, will you? You’ll be thanking me later when you’ve got your head back on straight,” Draco hisses.

The journey back to the Slytherin common room is long and stressful. Harry’s efforts only barely slow down by the time they make it to the entrance and Draco had long since started to carry him over his shoulder, which had surprised Ron so much he screamed.

“Just set my bag down next to the wall, Weasley. I’ll get it in a bit,” Draco says when he stops in front of the blank stone entrance to the Slytherin common room.

“Are you sure? We’re in the middle of the corridor,” Ron replies hesitantly.

“No, we’re at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, but you’re not allowed inside so I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Also, don’t let anyone know that you know where the entrance is.”

Ron nods his head and sets the bag down. “I can do that. Are you sure you can handle Harry?”

“I’ll be fine. He’ll calm down eventually,” Draco says.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not even here!” Harry exclaims and he jerks in Draco’s hold, causing the blond to tighten his grip.

“Harry, if you fall and get hurt it will be your own fault and I will have no sympathy for you whatsoever so I suggest you stop doing that before I end up accidentally dropping you,” Draco says, his tone clearly showing how done he is.

Ron mouths ‘Good luck’ at Draco and then heads off back down the corridor, leaving Draco to stand there still holding Harry over his shoulder.

“Serpent,” Draco says to the wall and then enters the common room, marching over to the comfiest chairs and plopping Harry down in one. “Stay or I will hex you,” he demands before he stalks back out of the common room to retrieve his bag.

As he steps back inside the common room, however, he runs straight into Harry. Draco huffs annoyedly and drops his bag so he can pick Harry back up over his shoulder.

“You can’t keep controlling me like this,” Harry says. “You’re not in charge of me.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just your best friend who is concerned about your well-being and refuses to sit by while you waste away in front of a mirror,” Draco replies, and he all but throws Harry back into a chair then plops himself down on Harry’s lap.

“What are you doing? Get off of me,” Harry protests, pushing Draco away.

Draco falls to the floor but instantly gets back up and sits on Harry again. “I’m making sure you can’t leave.  _ Wingardium Leviosa _ .” With the wave of his wand, Draco’s bag slowly floats across the room towards him and he pulls out of it his Potions book.

Harry starts pushing him again but Draco just grabs his wrists. After several minutes of Harry continuing to struggle, the entrance to the common room opens up and Slytherins spill inside.

“Draco, what are you doing to poor Harry?” Pansy asks, almost scandalized as she and the other first years approach them.

“Keeping him alive,” Draco replies, completely unfazed by the incredulous looks he receives.

“And why, exactly, do you need to sit on him to do that?” Blaise asks.

“A better question would be why he needs to keep Harry alive in the first place,” says Pansy.

Draco tilts his head from side to side as he thinks of how best to answer that. “So, those can both be answered by the same thing,” he begins. Harry gives a sudden jerk of his right hand but Draco just smacks it and grabs his wrist again before continuing. “You know when I told you we were going to study Potions with Weasley? Yeah, that was a lie.”

“No, really?” Blaise asks sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

“Do you want me to tell you or not? So, we weren’t lying about being with Weasley, he did come with us, and I’m actually kind of thankful for it, but we’re not going to talk about that—we went back to the Mirror of Erised because I had a theory and I wanted to test it and it turns out I was right. While I was testing my theory, Harry was looking into the mirror and when we told him it was Weasley’s turn it was like he was in a whole other realm and had no idea what was going on around him. Weasley decided he didn’t want to look in the mirror after all and we tried to get Harry to leave but he started fighting with us so I carried him down here and when he tried to leave again I sat on him,” Draco explains.

“You carried him?” Pansy asks, clearly skeptical.

“Yes, I carried him. Don’t act so surprised, he weighs practically nothing, it wasn’t such a grand accomplishment for me.”

“So, what you’re telling me,” Blaise cuts in, “is that you didn’t listen to me when I said that mirror was dangerous and now we have a possible crazy housemate?”

Draco shakes his head. “I never said he was crazy. No, he’s just a little… disoriented. It should wear off soon.”

“I’m right here!” Harry says and Draco flinches.

“That was right in my ear, thank you very much.”

“It’s your own fault for sitting on me.”

“Well, are you going to stay here if I get up?”

“...Yes.”

“That wasn’t very convincing,” says Draco, but he lets go of Harry’s wrists and gets up nonetheless.

They all watch Harry cautiously for a few moments, but he remains in the chair.

“So, what’s the issue with you lot?”

“Nothing, Holly. You don’t always have to get in mine and my friends’ business,” Pansy says to her sister.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Holly asks. “Besides, I was just coming over here to let you know that Snape is going to be asking for names of who’s staying here over Holidays, but you all looked worried and I only wanted to help. You’re just mad everyone says  _ I’m _ the good sister.”

“Who has ever said that?” Draco asks incredulously.

“People,” Holly answers, then sticks her tongue out. “You just don’t talk to the right ones. You obviously aren’t as important and celebrated as I am.”

“I am the only heir of Emanuele Zabini and Illona Mardas,” says Blaise. “It doesn’t get much more important and celebrated than that.”

“Oh, my bad, forgot I was talking to a future model and the heir to seven fortunes,” Holly says.

“Seven?” Harry asks. “Is that a joke, or…?”

“No, Blaise is the heir of seven fortunes. Each of his mother’s seven husbands have died and they all made her the sole inheritor, so once she’s gone Blaise gets it all,” Draco says in a way that makes Harry wonder if he's jealous or excited.

“Seven right now,” Blaise says. “There will be a few more before she dies.”

“You day that likely know it’s definitely going to happen,” Harry says and his friends all answer with a look that says they  _ do _ know it’s going to happen. “But how—”

“It’s better for everyone if you don’t finish that question,” Blaise interrupts.

“Uh… okay,” Harry replies, and he makes a mental note to never offend Blaise’s mother. “So, um, who’s staying here with me over Holidays?” he asks, just to change the subject.

“You’re not going home?” Pansy asks.

“No. I think if I tried the Dursleys would just leave me at King's Cross until it was time to come back to Hogwarts,” Harry answers.

“Well, I’m not going to let you stay here by yourself,” Draco says. “You can come home with me. Mother will be pleased to have you and we definitely have room.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, not quite sure what else to say, but extremely grateful he’ll get to spend Holidays with his best friend instead of alone at Hogwarts.

“You’re welcome,” Draco replies.

~*~

Harry is a little more than nervous when he boards the Hogwarts Express to take him and his friends back to King’s Cross to see their families over Holidays. He’s not exactly sure what to expect from Draco’s family and is positive he is going to make a fool of himself.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Draco says around lunchtime as they snack on sweets in their slightly full compartment. “I’m so glad I’ll have someone to keep me from going insane. As much as I love the manor, it can get a little boring. At least I don’t have to suffer through any tutoring, and the feasts and parties are always amazing—”

“Wait, back up. Manor?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Have I never mentioned that before?” Draco asks in return. “Malfoy Manor is where I grew up.”

“Aren’t manors for lords and dukes and things like that?” Harry asks.

“Well, yeah. If we wanted to be technical about it, I am Lord Malfoy, the Younger. Have I seriously never said anything about that?”

“No,” Harry says. “So, do any of the rest of you have some major thing about your family that I don’t know?”

Pansy shrugs. “Well, I mean, we’re all Lords and Ladies. I believe you are too, though, so it’s not like it’s something you’re missing out on.”

“Excuse me, what? I’m a Lord? How did I not know about this?” Harry says.

“Any family who holds a seat on the Wizengamot has Lordship,” Draco explains. “The Head of House sits on the Wizengamot whenever necessary, unless otherwise incapacitated, then their first heir sits. Pureblood families have always been on the Wizengamot, but recently there have been… less  _ Pure _ members taking seats. It’s hard to get a seat, though. It takes fame, money, power, all sorts of things. There’s no doubt about it that you’ll be able to claim your seat when you turn seventeen, though.”

“Wait, so does that mean I’m not a Lord right now?”

Blaise shakes his head. “No, but you will be, if you want to.”

“And why wouldn’t you want to, the Wizengamot does basically everything political for the Ministry,” Pansy says.

“This is… a lot of information,” Harry says.

“I always forget you grew up with Muggles,” says Draco. “It must have been awful. And then to not know anything about the Wizarding World and have to just figure it out as you go along. How do you and Granger do it?”

Harry purses his lips, not sure how to answer that, then looks out the window at the snow covered landscape. He spends the rest of the train ride in silence, half listening to his friends having fun and joking around him while the rest of him is even more worried about how he could possible make a fool of himself. Every day he finds out something else that makes him realize how little he actually knows about being a wizard, and he feels even more out of place.

The sun has started to set by the time they arrive at the station, and Harry is both physically and mentally exhausted. He hopes Malfoy Manor isn’t too far, he really needs to sleep.

“Harry, this way! I see Mother and Father!” Draco says, leading Harry through the crowds of people on the platform waiting to reunite with each other.

Harry suddenly stops when he almost runs his luggage trolley into Draco, who was no longer moving in favor of hugging a tall, beautiful woman who Harry realizes must be Mrs. Malfoy.

“Mother, Father,” Draco says when he pulls away, “this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my mother and father.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry says, feeling rather awkward and unsure of how to act.

“Oh, please, call me Narcissa. All of Draco’s friends do,” Draco’s mother says.

Harry smiles at her, already feeling slightly more at ease, but the feeling goes away when he looks at Mr. Malfoy, who is wearing a colder, meaner version of the I’m-better-than-all-of-you look that Blaise normally wears.

“So, how about we head to the Manor, you boys must be tired after that long train ride,” Narcissa says. She pulls out her wand and waves it, performing a spell Harry doesn’t quite catch, and both his and Draco’s luggage shrinks down so that it is big enough to fit in his palm. “Put that in your pocket, dear, it’s easier to travel. Have you ever side-along apparated before?”

“Uh, I don’t think so. What is it?” Harry asks.

“Apparition is when a witch or wizard disappears from one place and reappears in another. With side-along apparition, you can bring someone with you when you apparate. Since you’ve never done it, you might be slightly nauseous afterwards,” Narcissa explains. “It’s nothing a little food and sleep won’t fix, though. Here, take my arm.”

Harry does as he is told, and, without much warning other than Narcissa telling him to hold on tight, he feels as if a hook is pulling him from just behind the navel into a tube of swirling colors, much to small for him. He has to squeeze his eyes closed to fight against the sudden headache he feels, and then suddenly it’s over and he feels his feet land back on solid ground. He opens his eyes just in time to see Draco and his father pop into existence next to them where they stand in front of an elegant, wrought-iron gate.

This must be Malfoy Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! First chapter of the new year and officially over halfway through book one!
> 
> I feel really good about this chapter, I never had any trouble writing it once I actually had a chance to sit down and do it, which makes me really happy because that is rare for me.
> 
> This chapter kind of gets into some of the more world-building-type aspects of the story in that it adds on to some of the cultural aspect of Purebloods with the whole Wizengamot thing. Next chapter will also have a lot of that going on as Harry celebrates the holidays with the Malfoys. I just feel that while JK did a great job with world-building, she left a lot of room for expansion and didn’t really elaborate on the more cultural aspects of the Wizarding world, which I am going to take advantage of, because why not?
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Kudos are appreciated as always and I will reply to all comments, so be sure to do both! Make sure you subscribe to get notifications when I update again! Thanks again, you are all amazing!  
> -2MusicLover2


	11. Christmas Feasts

Harry finds himself in constant awe throughout his stay at Malfoy Manor. Not only is the wrought-iron gate out front one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen, but it is also one of the most magical. He and Narcissa walk through the gate arm-in-arm with each other, passing through the metal as if it were only an illusion.

“If you didn’t walk through with one of us, you wouldn’t have been able to do that,” Narcissa explains. “The entire property is warded and to those not allowed through the wards, the gate acts as a solid barrier. If someone were to somehow make it through the gate, however, the wards would have killed them before they made it to the front door.”

This slightly terrifies Harry, but he is still amazed by it. “Does that happen often?”

“No. The gates are exceptionally fortified beyond just the wards,” she replies. “And now that you’ve been escorted onto the property you’ll be able to enter and exit as you please. The more time you spend here, the easier it will be for you to pass through the gates, and the only way you can no longer be allowed is through some very powerful magic.”

Harry and Narcissa are soon joined by Draco, who seems eager to walk with Harry and show off the grounds he lives on. Mr. Malfoy, however, quickly surpasses the trio in favor of stalking up the gravel drive to the manor Harry can barely see in the distance.

Several albino peacocks strut past causing Harry’s eyes to flick back and forth between them and the expansive gardens he passes. The snow covering every inch of the grounds has that beautiful, freshly fallen quality to it that never seems to last long, but he has a strong feeling this snow will stay beautiful, whether that be from magic or something else entirely. It seems that everything on the manor’s grounds is picture perfect and despite Harry’s fear of possibly ruining the image by stepping in the wrong place, he knows deep down that it is impossible to do.

All too soon, the three reach the manor in all its glory, the gravel drive circling around a massive fountain still pumping out water even in the cold. As they approach the magnificent dark wooden double doors leading inside, they open, seemingly of their own accord. To Harry, it’s simultaneously inviting and ominous.

“Welcome to Malfoy Manor,” Draco announces as they step through the doors into an entrance hall almost as grand as the castle’s. The beauty of the two is hardly comparable however, as the castle finds its beauty in the ancient stone whereas the manor is more french gothic.

“Woah,” Harry says, the awe clear in his voice as he stares at the artwork that decorates the walls and the artifacts and sculptures on ornate tables around the edges of the hall. “It’s…”

“I advise you to only finish that sentence if it’s appreciative of the place I’ve grown up, although I’m not quite sure how you could think otherwise,” Draco says.

“It’s amazing,” Harry says truthfully. “I’ve never seen anything quite so beautiful.”

Draco grins, but it quickly falls from his face when he sees his father step into the hall from one of the adjoining rooms.

“I wouldn’t imagine that you would, being raised by  _ Muggles _ ,” Mr. Malfoy says, his tone nasty as he spits out the last word like it left a disgusting taste in his mouth.

Draco looks as if he wants to say something, but he makes no move to, which Harry finds completely out of character.

“How about you show Harry to where he’ll be staying?” Narcissa asks Draco with a smile after a moment of slightly awkward silence.

Draco nods and motions to Harry to follow him. After only a few rooms, however, Harry feels quite lost and has convinced himself that he will never make it out of the house without any form of help. Luckily, Draco seems to know where he’s going, and Harry mentally slaps himself, because of course, Draco knows his way around his own house.

With each room the boys pass by or through, Draco gives a brief explanation which Harry forgets as soon as they move on to the next room. Finally, after going up a grand staircase that definitely belongs in a manor, and going down several hallways, they stop in a bedroom.

“This will be yours for when you stay here, and before you ask, I mean it when I say it’s yours. No one else will ever stay in this room while you’re still around to claim it. We have enough of them that all my friends have their own,” Draco says as he and Harry both look around the room.

Harry only gets a moment to take it in, however, before Draco seems to be back to his energetic self as he bounces over to the bed and sits down on it, continuing to bounce.

“So, dinner should be served in an hour or so. Tonight will be informal, of course, since we spent the whole day traveling and it’s just the four of us. Until then, what do want to do?”

“Wait,” Harry says, slowly joining Draco on the bed. “Informal? Is there going to be a  _ formal _ dinner?”

“Well, yeah. Christmas Eve will be the most formal one you’ll have to endure. I think tonight might actually be the only one that’s not formal, although we will only have guests on Christmas Eve,” Draco replies.

“What’s the difference between Christmas Eve formal and any other formal?”

“Christmas Eve is a celebration, so there’s dancing and a long meal, and that’s when all of the other families will come to visit since it’s our turn to host this year, so we’ll get to see the rest of our friends that day. Christmas Day will also be a formal celebration, just without all of the guests. Our Christmas feast includes thirteen courses of dessert alone, which I’m always excited about. Other formal dinners are just really nice prepared meals that we eat as a family and we dress up for. Sadly there’s only one dessert course at those meals,” Draco explains.

Harry suddenly feels slightly sick. He can usually forget that Draco is a higher class than he is and also that Draco has more experience in the wizarding world. Now, though, Harry feels extremely out of place.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asks when he sees the worry take over Harry’s face.

“I have no idea what to do,” Harry says faintly.

Draco laughs but quickly stops when it just seems to make Harry feel worse. “Honestly, there’s nothing you can do wrong. Mother enjoys when I have friends over, she enjoys doting on us, and Father just wants to make a power move, and who is more powerful than The Boy Who Lived? If you do anything to embarrass yourself, Mother won’t care and Father will just blame the Muggles. To be completely honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to try and get you to live with us. We’d be like brothers!”

“You know, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Harry says, his sour mood vanishing at the idea of being able to live someplace other than at the Dursleys’.

“‘Doesn’t sound _too_ _bad_ ’? You offend me. It sounds brilliant!” Draco exclaims, falling back on the bed. “It would be so much fun having someone here all of the time.”

“Okay, it does sound pretty great,” Harry concedes. “I’ve been here for all of an hour and I already love it.”

“You think you love it,” Draco says. “You’ve barely seen it. I guarantee you don’t remember where a single room is, or even what rooms we passed on our way here. You’ve never been on the grounds—no, the walk up the drive does not count, that was barely a glimpse of what exists on this property. Not only that, but you don’t even know what it’s like to live here yet.”

“It can’t be any worse than living with the Dursleys.”

“Who said it was bad?”

“Well, from the way you were talking about it—”

“All I said was you don’t know what it’s like,” Draco interrupts. “The only negative thing in my mind is that I’m alone other than the rare occasion a friend comes to visit. I’m only saying that just because  _ I _ enjoy how I live, it doesn’t mean you will. While we may be best friends, we are two  _ completely _ different people who like different things.”

“What, you don’t think manor life is for me?” Harry says in an attempt to lighten the mood, which seems to work.

“Maybe,” Draco replies. “There’s only one way to find out. Come on, dinner should be ready.”

Just like that, Harry is beyond nervous all over again. He knows he has no reason to be, Draco  _ did _ tell him that his parents probably want him to move in. This is a whole new experience, though. Harry is finally finding out what goes on in the home of a wizarding family and he doesn’t want to do anything that could mess it up.

On the way to the ‘informal’ dining room, Harry tries to pay close attention to what rooms they pass by in an effort to keep himself from any possibility of getting lost in the future. While he does manage to remember a few things, it’s not enough for him to feel comfortable leaving Draco’s side yet.

“Oh, good. We were just about to send one of the house-elves for you,” Narcissa says when Harry and Draco step into what appears to be a dining room. Just as she says it, a house-elf pops in the room with a loud crack, startling Harry but leaving the three Malfoys unphased.

“Dinner is being ready, Sirs and Miss,” the house-elf says as Draco points Harry to a chair and they all sit down at the decently-sized table.

With a snap of the house elf’s fingers, a large platter with roasted lemon chicken appears in the center of the table. Several side dishes appear around the chicken and a table-setting appears in front of each of the Malfoys and Harry.

Not wanting to unknowingly do anything too rude, Harry watches Draco for cues of how and when to start eating. Just after the house-elf disappears with another loud crack, Draco picks up a glass with a small amount of red wine, so Harry does the same as he notices Mr. Malfoy and Narcissa also picking up their wine glasses and holding them towards the center of the table.

“ _ À ta santé _ ,” Mr. Malfoy says.

“ _ À la tienne _ ,” Draco and Narcissa both chorus in reply, Harry repeating it shortly after them in a poor imitation as they all clink their glasses together and everyone takes a sip of wine and makes a pleased noise.

Neither Harry nor Draco’s wine glasses are very full, in fact, it’s only enough for them to take a sip with the toast. As soon as they set the glasses back down on the table, they refill with water.

“ _ Bon appetit _ ,” Mr. Malfoy says.

Harry half-expects dinner to be silent, but it is quite the opposite. As soon as Mr. Malfoy gives the signal for them all to begin serving themselves, the conversation breaks out.

“So, Harry, dear, how are you enjoying Hogwarts?” Narcissa asks, looking to him expectantly as she places a piece of bread on her plate.

“It’s decent enough,” Harry replies, still feeling oddly formal despite the sudden informality of the whole event. “Most of the staff and students don’t seem too pleased about what house I was sorted into, but other than that it’s pretty good.”

“I can imagine. According to most, Slytherin is the house of evil and Dark witches and wizards. They’re probably not too happy that their savior is supposedly a Dark wizard, and even if you choose not to go down that path, they’d still be unhappy because your heroic image will ruin the image that has been painted of Slytherins for centuries,” Narcissa says.

“Draco tells us you aren’t too fond of his godfather,” Mr. Malfoy then says, changing the topic and making Harry’s heart jump at being addressed by someone he still wasn’t quite sure about.

“I think it’s a mutual feeling, sir,” Harry says, choosing his words carefully so as not to disrespect the man while at the same time remaining honest.

“You claimed Severus was the one who had cursed you at that Quidditch match?” says Mr. Malfoy, his tone somewhere between a question and a statement. “It’s very bold of you to assume something of such… significance.”

“Please, Lucius, stop interrogating the boy. He is our guest after all, as well as Draco’s friend,” Narcissa chastises her husband.

“I’m not interrogating, I’m merely asking about his life at Hogwarts.”

“No, you were interrogating and you know it,” Narcissa says.

“So, hate to interrupt this lovely conversation, but who is coming to Christmas Eve this year?” Draco asks, sarcasm filling the first half of his sentence.

“The same families as always, dear,” Narcissa replies.

“Yes, but Harry doesn’t know,” Draco replies exasperatedly.

Narcissa rolls her eyes and Harry finds it somehow elegant. “You could just as easily tell him, Draco.” Before Draco can do so, however, she continues. “Let’s see… well, everyone from school. Everyone in Slytherin, at least. The Carrows, the Lovegoods, the Averys, the Borgins, the Rosiers, the Rowles, the Burkes…”

“I have no idea who any of those people are,” Harry says feeling slightly ashamed.

“Severus will also be joining us. That won’t be an issue I trust, Potter?” Mr. Malfoy says in a condescending tone.

Harry purses his lips and isn’t quite able to meet Mr. Malfoy’s eyes as they glare down the table at him.

“Not at all, sir,” Harry replies. Of course, his issues with Snape remained, nothing could ever change how he feels about the slimy git, but Mr. Malfoy kind of terrifies Harry and he at least wants to make an effort with his best friend’s parents. If that meant pretending he was okay with Snape, then he could do it, even if that meant he would have to avoid the man for an entire day.

Just then, the house-elf pops back into the room, hovering at the doorway as if afraid to intrude. It stays silent, eyes lowered but still raised enough to see when they finish eating, and it snaps its fingers, making the dishes disappear. With a second snap of the house-elf’s fingers, a small lemon meringue pie appears in the center of the table and cuts itself into four pieces, each piece then floating to small dessert plates in front of the Malfoys and Harry.

“ _ Bon appetit _ ,” Mr. Malfoy says for the second time that night, and the house-elf disappears with another  _ pop _ as they all dig into their dessert.

Once everyone’s dessert is finished, the house-elf once again appears and clears away the dishes, leaving the Malfoys and Harry to sit at the empty table. Harry follows Draco back up to his room where Draco informs him that if Harry should need anything, his room is directly across the hall and then Harry is alone to unpack his luggage which had been restored to its proper size and brought up to the room when they arrived at the manor.

Harry’s exhaustion from the day’s travels quickly catches up with him and before long he finds himself waking up face down on the bed, his luggage only barely unpacked, as the house-elf from dinner the night before stands next to the bed, his face inches from Harry’s.

“Gah!” Harry exclaims, jumping backward, the last remnants of sleep completely leaving him.

“Good morning, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is being sent by Young Master Draco to see if Harry Potter is awake yet,” the elf says.

“I—I’m awake,” Harry says, his hand on his chest as if that will slow his heart down from the sudden rush of adrenaline when he woke up.

“Dobby is going to be telling Young Master Draco,” the elf says, but before he gets a chance to leave, Draco is already walking through Harry’s bedroom door.

“Dobby, I told you to let me know if he was awake, not watch him creepily until he wakes up,” Draco says. “Sorry about him, Harry. Absolutely no respect in him, no idea why we even keep him.”

“I mean, you did just barge in here. It’s not like you have much respect either,” Harry says, feeling a strange obligation to stick up for the elf.

“Yes, but I had heard you scream and wanted to make sure the elf wasn’t murdering you.” Draco rolls his eyes, then snaps his fingers at the elf, saying, “Dobby, leave.” Once the elf is gone with the  _ crack _ that Harry is slowly getting used to, Draco continues. “Father hates him and wants us to treat him the same as he does. It’s just his way of punishing me without actually punishing me.”

“How is it punishment for you? Do you like Dobby?” Harry asks, confused about this entire situation. Part of his confusion could possibly be due to his jarring awakening, however.

“I always forget you were raised by Muggles,” Draco says with a kind of awed smile. “There’s a reason house-elves are only found in the oldest wizarding households. They’re manifestations of the magic within the house. See, when wizards spend a lot of time someplace, their magic starts to imprint there. After a while, the magic becomes strong enough to manifest itself in the form of a house-elf. The reason house-elves serve wizardkind is that they are repaying us for creating them. Punishing Dobby is a form of punishment for me because he is greatly made up of my magic and so his personality is extremely similar to mine and Father views Dobby as a version of me he can be terrible to without feeling bad about it.”

“Well, doesn’t that bother you?” Harry asks.

Draco shrugs and starts to work on unpacking Harry’s luggage. “Not really. At least, that’s what I tell myself and how I act in front of Father. If it gets to me, then he wins, so I just have to be equally cruel to Dobby in order to prove I don’t care. Come on, help me finish unpacking. It is  _ your _ stuff after all. Then we can get some breakfast.”

~*~

Breakfast is much less nerve-wracking for Harry than dinner was, partially because of the much less formal setting of a cozy french-style living room decorated in creams and whites, but mostly due to the fact that Mr. Malfoy is eating in his study in order to get some last-minute work done. Just what kind of work, Harry can’t find it in himself to ask for fear that it’s something sinister.

A bowl of fruit and two cream-covered waffles are much more filling than Harry has ever anticipated, so when Draco declares that they are going to spend the day wandering the grounds, Harry groans.

“Just one hour for me to rest, that’s all I ask,” Harry says, and he smiles when Narcissa lets out a tiny huff of laughter.

“Rest is for the weak,” Draco says, grabbing Harry’s wrist and pulling him up out of the extremely comfortable chair. He drags Harry to Harry’s room and pushes him onto the bed before disappearing into the expansive closet, only briefly reappearing occasionally to throw a piece of clothing at Harry. Once Harry has a complete outfit thrown carelessly on him, Draco leaves the room with a demanding “If you’re not dressed in ten minutes then I’ll send Dobby in after you.”

Not wanting to know what the elf might do, Harry quickly gets dressed and stumbles out of the room in a matter of three minutes.

“Merlin, those clothes are huge on you. If it wasn’t for the fact that they’re so Muggle I would think you packed Vince’s or Greg’s clothes by accident,” says Draco.

Harry crosses his arms over himself, self-conscious of himself for the first time since he arrived at Hogwarts.

Draco quickly notices Harry’s discomfort, however, and smiles broadly. “Come on, you can wear something of mine, it’ll probably be much warmer anyways.”

And that’s how Harry ends up wearing some of the finest wizard’s robes he has ever seen while still being casual attire and even being able to blend in as a fancy suit in the Muggle world.

“Okay, if this is what you wear on normal dad, what do you consider dress robes?” Harry asks through the closed door of Draco’s closet as he looks at himself in the full-length mirror.

“Something a lot less Muggle and a lot more robe-like,” Draco replies, the sound slightly muffled by the door. “Come on, show me how you look and then I can get dressed too.”

Harry opens the door and steps out to find Draco sitting on his bed flipping through a worn, leather-bound book. When Draco glances up to see Harry, he smiles.

“That looks much better, it’s a good thing we’re about the same size.”

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” Harry says, truly grateful for being able to go a day without having to wear either his Hogwarts uniform or something far too large for him.

“Borrow it? You can keep it, it looks good on you. In fact… Dobby!” Draco calls, snapping his fingers. The elf appears seconds later, and Draco gives his order. “Put in an order for five more robes like what Harry has on. My measurements should work for him. Also, Harry’s going to need a set of formal robes, so order those too. Same measurements as me.”

“Dobby will do that Young Master Draco,” Dobby says and then promptly disappears again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry says, although his tone gives away how thankful and happy he is.

“My turn,” Draco says in lieu of a reply as he steps into the closet himself.

Draco chooses robes similar to Harry’s, just in black rather than deep blue. As soon as he is dressed, the two boys head downstairs and out the front door, donning heavy cloaks to protect them from the harsh cold as snow blows all around them.

The lack of any sort of path hardly deters Draco, and Harry is slightly skeptical about trudging throw a foot of snow until Draco takes a step into the snow and it magically clears itself. Everywhere Draco steps, the snow is always one step ahead of him, clearing itself away just enough that they don’t have trouble walking.

“The yard is bewitched,” Draco explains. “It will always be snowy in the wintertime, but if you try to walk though it, it will clear a path for you.”

“That’s amazing,” Harry says, completely awestruck.

They walk through the yard, Harry just behind Draco and occasionally glancing back to watch the snow reappear a few steps behind them. Draco points out different things as they pass by such as different gardens, stables, a greenhouse, and an indoor pool building, but they finally come to a stop in a small clearing in the expansive forest on the grounds. In the middle of the clearing stands a small cabin that Harry can only describe as being too Muggle to look at home on the grounds of Malfoy Manor.

“So, you’re not actually supposed to know about this,” Draco begins. “The only people who know about it are Malfoys and, well, now you. Basically, just don’t let Father know I brought you here or even that you know it exists. It’s where my grandfather lives and where we keep, well, you’ll see.”

Slightly nervous and afraid of what exactly it is Harry is about to see, he reluctantly follows Draco up the fronts steps, onto the porch, and then through the front door of the cabin.

Theo side of the cabin is extremely cozy. It immediately opens up into an open floor plan with stairs going up to a loft above the quaint kitchen. There is a hall just behind the stairs, but Harry can’t quite see down it to know what exactly it leads to. The furniture is all black leather, fitting the dark wood of the cabin, and a fire crackles in the fireplace, providing enough heat for the cabin that the boys have to take off their cloaks and Draco hangs them in a small coat closet at the foot of the stairs.

“Draco! Your mother told me you’d be bringing a friend here. Who’s this young man?” an old man calls from the kitchen island.

“Grandfather, this is my friend Harry Potter, from school. He’s staying with us over Hols and Mum said I could bring him here to make him feel a little more welcome,” Draco replies as he grabs Harry’s wrist and pulls him to the kitchen.

“Hello, Harry, it’s nice to meet you! I’m Abraxas, Draco’s grandfather. Draco has told me a lot about you, although I’m sure he hasn’t told you much about me,” the man says, shaking Harry’s hand. Harry notices a twinkle in his eye, much like the one Dumbledore possesses.

“No, sorry, he hasn’t,” Harry says.

“Oh, my dear boy, don’t apologize. It’s Draco’s fault he hasn’t mentioned me, not yours,” Abraxas says, waving his hand at Harry’s apology. “I’m not as disgraced as Lucius would like to believe. In fact, most wizards honor me. Not nearly as much as they do you, however.”

“Uh… thank you?” Harry says in a questioning tone, unsure of how to properly react.

“Of course that’s a compliment, dear boy! You are set to go down in the books, students will be learning about you for ages to come!” says Abraxas. “Now, me, on the other hand, I am only a current figure in society. I may be well-liked now, but I am far from being a household name.” He waves his hand as if that was just a trivial thing he could care less about, and then turns to his grandson. “So, Draco, I understand you wanted to show Harry around and prove to him not all Malfoys are as evil as your father?”

Draco cringes. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that he’s  _ evil _ …” he says, and then trails off as if unsure how to finish that statement.

“Harry here no doubt is thinking that right about now, though,” Abraxas states and Draco concedes, Harry blushing as he realizes how open he must be about his thoughts towards Mr. Malfoy. “No worries, though, Harry. We’ve all thought it about Lucius once or twice. He’s not necessarily all that bad, though, just too focused on keeping up appearances. For example, I can guarantee you that not a single Malfoy actually has any issue with Muggles or Muggle-borns.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. “But… Draco told me…”

“Appearances, Harry. You’re the only person in the world who will know this without being a Malfoy,” Draco says.

“But you treated Hermione so awfully because she’s Muggle-born.”

“I tolerate her now. Besides, it wasn’t the fact that her parents are Muggles that I didn’t like, it was the fact that she’s an insufferable know-it-all.”

“So why do you all have to pretend to hate Muggles? Couldn’t the Malfoys all just start being nice to them and then everything would be okay?” Harry asks, truly confused as to where this whole thing was going.

Abraxas puts his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Let me explain. Back when the Malfoys first came over to England from France, it was side-by-side with the Muggles. In fact, the grounds Malfoy Manor was built on was a gift from King William. We used to be close with the Muggles, doing favors for them in return for more land or different art they had to offer. Then, at the end of the 17th century, the International Statute of Secrecy was passed and contact with Muggles was all but forbidden, we pretended none of that had ever happened. This cabin was built and inside of it went everything that ever connected us to Muggles. Malfoys in the past have gone so far in this pretense that they publicly supported Grindelwald and then later the Dark Lord in their ages. We continue the pretense because even though it might seem safe at the moment, I do not believe the Dark Lord is truly gone and if he were to come back into power only to find us fraternizing with his enemy…” Abraxas trails off, and Harry has a feeling he could guess what might happen.

“I want to show you everything we have stored here,” Draco says suddenly, grabbing Harry’s wrist again and leading him down the hall and through the first door on the left into the basement.

“Woah,” Harry says when they make it to the bottom of the stairs and he sees an art collection worthy of a museum. “People willingly gave all of this to your family?”

Draco shrugs. “In exchange for different favors, but yeah, pretty much. There’s a lot of Muggle history in this cabin.”

Harry and Draco spend the next couple of hours walking around and admiring the artwork until Draco’s grandfather walks downstairs to call them up to dinner. This time, however, Harry doesn’t feel the nervousness that he had felt the night before when he had dinner with Draco’s parents for the first time. Abraxas was so much more relaxed and Harry could see where Draco got much of his personality.

“Will you be coming to the party on Christmas Eve, Abraxas? Draco’s already told me so much about it,” Harry asks once they finish eating.

“Of course. No one can know that we’ve met yet, however. Especially not my son,” Abraxas replies.

“That reminds me, we should head back up to the manor, and if Father asks anything about our day or dinner then we spent the whole day wandering the grounds and we’re not hungry because we brought snacks with us. Mom is covering for us with the snacks, she had the elves make up enough food for us to eat and then instead of giving it to us today she divided it up between our rooms so we can eat it whenever or bring it back to the castle with us when break is over,” Draco says, and Harry nods. “Bye, Grandpa!”

“Bye, Abraxas,” Harry says happily, glad to have seen another side to Draco’s family history than what Mr. Malfoy seems happy to portray.

“I’ll see you at Christmas Eve, boys!” Abraxas calls as they leave the cabin and head back up to the manor.

~*~

Christmas Eve arrives in a flurry of activity as Harry is awoken by Dobby flitting about his room, tidying up the mess that had been made over the course of his stay, while someone searches through his closet.

“Oh, good, you’re up,” Draco says when he walks out of Harry’s closet holding up the formal robes that had arrived the previous day with the other robes Draco had ordered for him. “Hurry up and put these on, we have a lot to do and only a little bit of time to do it. Dobby, come; this wing is off limits anyways. I’m sure Mother could use some help in the kitchens.”

Not wanting to be a hindrance in the preparation for the day’s celebrations, Harry quickly gets dressed and then steps out into the hallway to find Draco waiting for him in a similar set of robes, however, Draco’s are pure black as opposed to Harry’s dark green.

Draco cocks his head at Harry and looks at him for a long moment, making Harry momentarily panic and think he put the robes on wrong, until Draco says “Dobby may be more obsessed with you than I thought.”

“Uh… how do you mean?” Harry asks as they start heading downstairs and towards the part of the manor reserved for parties such as this one.

“Your robes are the exact color of your eyes,” Draco says.

Before the conversation can go on any longer, however, the boys are called into the kitchens by Narcissa.

“Draco could you beat those egg yolks for the sabayon, please? And Harry, dear, could you add that bowl of bread crumbs and raisins to the sausage and liver and mix it all together?”

Just like that, Harry is helping to prepare dinner, and he has finally found joy in cooking. Maybe it was just cooking for the Dursleys that he didn’t like, or maybe it was the fact that he knew he was going to get to enjoy this meal as well.

The first guests arrive just as they finish preparing the thirteenth dessert, and Harry goes with the Malfoys to greet them at the front door.

“Lucius, how nice to see you. Narcissa, lovely as always. And Draco, my dear boy, you’ve grown some since you went off to Hogwarts. Ah, and you must be Draco’s friend…”

“Harry, sir. Harry Potter,” Harry tells Abraxas with a smile, and Abraxas winks at him when Mr. Malfoy turns to look at Harry.

All too soon, Harry finds himself surrounded by families he doesn’t know, all of the pure-blooded and knowing so much more about the wizarding world than he does, and he isn’t quite sure how to handle it. Of course, he has Draco and everyone else that he knows from school to talk to; it seems as though the entirety of Slytherin House is currently at Malfoy Manor, but seeing them all together, celebrating in proper wizard tradition when he doesn’t know anything of it… it makes him feel slightly dizzy and nauseous.

“You’re not alone, you know,” comes a small voice from Harry’s left as he stands, watching all of the families talk around him as they sip on their drinks. Despite the quietness of the voice compared to the chatter around him and the fact that the girl is an arm’s length away from him, he is still startled.

“What do you mean?” he asks when he manages to calm his racing heart enough to get out a full sentence.

“Most everyone here isn’t quite sure how to act, either. The pure-blooded families only have one tradition for the holidays, which is the Sacred Twenty-Eight families take turns each year to host a party following the traditions of their ancestors. It keeps us all aware of each other while also letting us celebrate together. Draco’s family is French, therefore we’re celebrating in the French tradition of having a large party on Christmas Eve, which heavily features food. No one here under the age of twenty-eight actually knows how to act, because they’ve never been to a Malfoy hosted party before,” the girl explains.

“That’s… good to know,” Harry says. He takes a better look at the girl, taking in her pale skin and white-blonde hair, thinking just for a second that maybe Draco has a long lost sister. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Luna Lovegood,” the girl says, smiling gently. “Not Sacred Twenty-Eight, but still pure-blooded. I’m Draco’s cousin.”

“Oh,” says Harry. “That explains a lot. I’m—”

“Harry Potter. I know.”

“There you are, Harry!” Draco suddenly cuts in. “It’s almost time for the first course! I see you’ve met Luna.”

“I was just assuring Harry that he’s not the only one feeling lost here,” Luna says, and Harry would think it was defensive coming from any other person, but she was so polite about it that Harry realized she was actually only informing Draco what they had been talking about.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry I didn’t mention that to you, Harry. I was just so excited that we would be hosting while you were here that it completely slipped my mind,” Draco says, a bit sheepishly.

Harry shrugs. “It’s no problem.”

Throughout dinner, it becomes more and more apparent to Harry that what Luna told him was true. He can see all of the little tells of the younger guests glancing around at the older guests and at the Malfoys to see how to act. As the meal goes on, he slowly becomes more comfortable as he realizes that this dinner is no different than every other dinner he has had during his stay at the manor other than the fact that it is multiple courses longer. For the first time at this party, he feels like he fits in even more than everyone else. He even notices that others at the dinner are realizing this and looking to  _ him _ as a guide for how to behave, and by the end of the thirteenth course of dessert, he almost finds himself wishing it would be longer if it weren’t for his sudden tiredness.

“So, how did you enjoy the party?” Draco asks him after all the guests are gone and they are heading upstairs to their rooms.

“I’m going to be honest, I was a little uncomfortable at first, but after I talked to Luna I really started to enjoy myself,” Harry replies.

“She does have that effect on people,” Draco says, and then he yawns, making Harry also feel the need to yawn.

“I am really tired after that, though,” Harry says.

“Well, you have been up since eight in the morning and dinner started at eleven at night and was over fifteen courses long,” Draco says.

“It’s technically Christmas Day, isn’t it?” Harry asks.

Draco is silent for a moment before he answers. “Yeah, I guess it is. Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Merry Christmas, Draco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!
> 
> So, this is a lot longer than I originally intended, but I didn’t feel like cutting any of it out.
> 
> I don’t really have much else to say other than I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please leave kudos and comment! I reply to all comments, and I love to hear your opinions!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> -2MusicLover2


	12. The Dog and the Trapdoor

Harry is so tired when they finally arrive back at the castle after Holidays that he seriously debated skipping dinner. The only thing that stops him is when his stomach rumbles shortly after Ron’s on the train, almost as if they are having a conversation.

That tiredness seems to suddenly disappear, however, when he and the rest of the Slytherin boys enter their room to find a strange-looking package on Harry’s bed.

“Did any of you…?” Harry asks, but they all shake their heads, looking just as confused as he is.

They stand there, crowded in the doorway staring at the package for a good ten minutes before Draco says, “Well, let’s see what it is, then.”

Harry slowly walks over to his bed and sits down, pulling the package into his lap, and then suddenly they are all on his bed, pushing each other to get a better view.

“Open it,” Blaise says, and Harry thinks it’s the most excited he’s seen Blaise get about anything ever.

With an amused smirk that Harry no doubt learned how to do from Draco, he opens the package to find a shimmering cloak that somehow seems to move as if it were made of water. Without wasting much time, Harry gets off the bed and tries on the cloak, immediately looking down at himself when his friends all give him shocked reactions, only to find that he can’t actually see himself.

“My body’s gone!” he shouts, slightly alarmed at first until he realizes that he can still feel everything and that he must just be invisible. “Woah, I’m invisible! Wicked!”

“No way, I’ve always wanted one of those!” Draco says, looking at the space where Harry’s body should be in awe.

“What is it?” Harry asks. He takes the cloak off and then puts it back on, watching as his body reappears and disappears.

“You’ve got yourself an invisibility cloak,” Blaise says. “They’re extremely rare and bloody valuable. Look, it came with a card. May I?”

Harry shrugs. “Go right ahead.”

“‘ _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you_ ,’” Blaise reads. “The handwriting looks so familiar…”

Harry walks back over to his bed and looks at the note scrawled elegantly on the tiny piece of parchment. “I don’t know. To be honest, most fancy handwriting looks the same to me. Like, if you all wrote something right now and had me try to figure out who wrote it, I wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Yes, I believe you are the _only_ Slytherin to have horrible handwriting. Ever,” Blaise drawls.

“Forget the note and the handwriting, do you realize what this means?” Draco says excitedly.

“Trips to the kitchens after curfew without getting caught?” Vince asks.

“No. Well, yes, we can go anywhere in this castle at any time without getting caught, but that’s not what I was talking about,” Draco says. “Whoever gave this cloak to Harry had it given to them by Harry’s father _before he died_ . That was _ten years ago_ . Most invisibility cloaks don’t last that long, you can get about five years out of them if you’re _lucky_. This cloak has some major charms on it if it’s lasted that long.”

“Who cares about the charms, I want to see why the third-floor corridor is forbidden!” shouts Harry excitedly, and Blaise immediately shushes him.

“Don’t go shouting about it, I guarantee you someone would kill for that cloak, especially if it’s as powerful as what Draco says it is,” he says.

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Harry says sheepishly, then he gets excited again. “But who wants to go to the forbidden corridor with me?”

Theodore rolls his eyes then gets up from Harry’s bed, climbing into his own and burying himself in his covers instead of replying.

Blaise takes the more vocal route after rolling his eyes, and says, “I’d rather live through my first year, thanks,” then he follows Theo’s example and gets into his own bed.

“Could we go to the kitchens first?” Greg asks.

“And maybe after, too?” Vince asks, he and Greg both looking to Harry with hopeful eyes.

“You literally just got back from dinner,” Draco says with a bewildered expression.

Greg looks down at his lap. “I know, but I’m hungry again.”

“We underestimated our hunger,” says Vince, punctuating his statement with a growl from his stomach.

Draco’s expression becomes somehow even more baffled and Harry sighs.

“We can go to the kitchens to get you some food really quickly, but I guess we can hold off on going to the third-floor corridor until this weekend or something. I am kind of tired,” Harry says, and Greg and Vince both get up excitedly to join Harry under the cloak as they set off for the kitchens.

~*~

The next morning when Harry gets startled awake at breakfast by his arm being nudged out from under his head that maybe it was for the best that he didn’t spend the night wandering the third-floor corridor.

“Long night?” Holly inquires, smirking and letting out a short peal of laughter at that Harry would have called a giggle if it weren’t for the fact that it sounded somehow evil.

Harry gives her a rather weak glare as he wipes the jam off from where it ended up smeared on his sleeve and lap after his slight freak-out as she had so rudely awakened him. “Not funny.”

“Really? Because I thought it was _hilarious_ ,” Holly says with more of that soft yet maniacal laughter. “What’s got you so tired anyways? You’re young, still so full of life and joy just waiting to be squeezed out of you by the professors—it’s their favorite meal.”

“Long day ‘n’ ’m tired.” Harry shrugs half-heartedly.

“And yet you wanted to go to the third-floor corridor last night,” Draco says from his other side.

“Shuddup,” Harry groans as he pushes his plate of food far enough away from himself that he can rest he head on the table and—

“Hey! No sleeping!” Holly says, roughly shaking him. “Tell me more about this plan on visiting the third-floor corridor. Why you wanna go there? Has someone said something about it?”

“Alright, I’m up, I’m up,” Harry says, following it with a great yawn and then looking at Holly quizzically. “Why do you care so much?”

“Uh-uh. You are _not_ going to turn this back around on me. I asked first, so tell me.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I was just curious as to why it’s forbidden. The way they announced it at the beginning of the year made it seem like a new thing.”

“Oh,” Holly says, visibly relaxing. “I could just tell you that. They’re keeping a giant three-headed dog locked up there and don’t want it to eat anyone. My money’s on Hagrid putting it there and they just haven’t figured out the best way to get rid of it yet.”

“Hagrid’s not that bad,” Harry says defensively.

Holly gives him a falsely sympathetic look. “Oh, honey.”

“Come on, Harry, you don’t actually believe her, do you?” Draco asks. “No way there’s a three-headed dog in the school. Father would have an aneurism and then curse Dumbledore to death and then Mother would bring him back to life only to curse him again for putting me in an even remotely dangerous situation.”

“And that is exactly why they’re keeping it all hush-hush. Don’t need any angry parents storming the school making matters worse, do they?” Holly says as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “How about this: Friday night, after dinner and after the house meeting and all of that nonsense, we all go up to the third-floor corridor and I prove to you that there really a gigantic three-headed dog hidden away up there. You can even bring your little Gryffindor friends, if you want. Better yet, let’s make it a full-fledged First Years field-trip with me as your devastatingly attractive, hilarious, and genius tour guide.”

She grins at the two boys as she gets up from her seat, not even bothering to wait for an answer.

“See, if there really was a three-headed dog up there, she wouldn’t invite all of the First Years to go see it. That’s why I do not believe her one bit,” Draco says, and Harry gives him a skeptical look.

~*~

Harry’s skepticism is exactly how Draco, Harry, Ron, and Hermione end up stumbling up the stairs hidden beneath the invisibility cloak on Friday night, hoping none of the moving portraits overhear them and tell any professors that there are students out of bed.

“Ow, Ron! If you stop on my foot one more time I swear to Merlin I will curse you so hard your great-grandchildren will still be suffering from the effects of it,” Hermione threatens as they shuffle up the final staircase.

“Hey, no one said you had to come,” Ron retorts.

“Someone had to keep you imbeciles from getting killed, or worse, _expelled_.”

“Quiet, I hear someone coming!” Harry whispers, causing them all to stop and hold their breath at the top of the stairs until they see Holly come around the corner and look around.

“Where the bloody hell are you all? I can hear you, you know, you suck at being stealthy,” she whispers, looking around confusedly.

“Yeah, well, you can’t see us, can you, so I say that’s a point for us on stealth,” Draco quips then sticks his tongue out despite the fact that she can’t see him.

Holly huffs in annoyance, then turns and starts walking down the corridor. “Whatever. Reveal yourselves when you’re done being children.”

Harry looks around to make sure it’s just them and Holly, then pulls off the invisibility cloak and stuffs it into his book bag that he brought with him to carry it out of sight of Holly. Something told him that she would just _love_ to get her hands on it.

They follow her down the corridor until they stop in front of a wooden door. Ron, ever-so-impatient, tries to open it only to declare that it’s locked.

“Of course it’s locked, Ronald. Did you really think they’d leave only an unlocked door and a statement of the corridor being ‘forbidden’ between students and a three-headed dog that could probably swallow anyone in this school whole? No, Dumbledore is so much _smarter_ than that. He put a spell on the door to lock it so there’s not even a key and the only counter-spell is one that we all learn in First Year,” Holly says, her words dripping in sarcasm. “ _Alohomora_.”

With the spell, the lock clicks and Holly motions towards it as if to say ‘after you,’ but the four first years shake their heads.

“You can go first. There’s no way I’m leaving you an opening to lock me in there,” Ron says, and Holly rolls her eyes.

“I’m not that cruel, but fine. I’ll go first and then you can come in and see for yourself.”

She opens the door, keeping her wand held out as she walks through, and then, strangely enough, they hear soft piano music floating out of the room. Curious, they follow after the older girl only to widen their eyes in fright and see that she had been telling the truth all along.

In the middle of the room—or rather, taking up most of the room—was a black dog, which, Harry counted just to be sure, actually did have three heads. In the corner of the room say a small radio from which the sounds of the piano playing came, as well as a cauldron boiling over a portable flame, multiple leather-bound books, and a few textbooks, that Holly was all marking with random papers and quills as she shut them.

“You… were actually telling the truth,” Draco says, seeming to be the only one of the four who can manage to speak.

For a moment, they all stare, just inside the doorway, as Holly watches them, clearly waiting for any other reactions.

“It’s on a trapdoor,” Hermione says after a while. “Look at its foot.”

Sure enough, underneath one of the great, big paws, was a wooden trapdoor, just large enough for a person to fit through.

“Yeah,” Holly says. “Never bothered to check to see what’s under it, though. I’d rather live, thanks.”

“How did you even find this? And is that all your stuff right there?” Draco asks, motioning towards the books, cauldron, and radio in the corner.

“Uh… yep, that’s mine. I needed a place to, uh, study without any interruptions, so I decided the third-floor might be a good place to look. The Forbidden Forest was going to be my second choice, but people go in there all the time, so I just came up here and this was the first door that opened for me. At first, the dog kinda freaked me out, but I heard music coming from this room once, and snores, and I realized that it would fall asleep if you played music, so I just brought a radio with me the next day and I’ve been coming here ever since.”

“That’s… okay,” Harry says, unsure how to respond to this sudden onslaught of information he was receiving. “That’s great. There’s a three-headed dog sleeping on top of a trapdoor in my school. Every little boy’s dream right there.”

Holly raises an eyebrow that none of them can see because they are all too busy staring at the dog. “You can leave if you’re scared, but it’s not going to hurt you. I’ve been coming here almost every day since November and I’ve yet to get even the slightest scratch, not even the few times it’s woken up. It’s just a dog, even if it’s a little bigger than normal.”

“Three heads,” says Ron. “Don’t forget the three heads.”

“Whatever. Leave if you want. I’m just gonna stay here and finish this potion,” Holly says, sitting down and crossing her legs in front of her. She opens her books back up and starts reading through them, making notes as she occasionally stirs or adds something to her potion.

The first years watch the dog for only a moment longer before risking a glance at Holly and then backing away, out of the door, throwing the invisibility cloak back over themselves once the door is shut behind them.

~*~

“What?!” Pansy shrieks the next morning as the first year Slytherins all walk to the Great Hall together for breakfast. “You just left my sister alone in a room with a bloody _three-headed dog_!”

“You told the Gryffindors about your invisibility cloak?!” Blaise asks exasperatedly before either Draco or Harry can reply to Pansy.

Draco waves his arms around frantically until they both stop yelling at him and Harry for the things they have watched deemed stupid of the two boys. “Pansy, it’s not like we were leaving her completely defenseless. Apparently she’s been going there since November and she has yet to die or get seriously injured, so Id say she’s pretty safe. And Blaise, it’s not really your place to tell Harry who he can and can’t tell about his cloak. The Gryffindors _are_ his friends, too.”

“I don’t care if she was defenseless or not! You got scared and left her there all alone, you cowards!” Pansy says, her voice pitched higher than normal and getting higher with every word.

“Look! There she is now, completely unharmed,” Harry says, pointing at where Holly is sitting at the Slytherin table with her fourth year friends when they walk into the Great Hall.

Pansy glares at Harry for only a second before she storms off to her sister, although that short second is enough to make him fear for his life and resolve to never again do something to anger the girl. Moments later, they hear more of Pansy’s angry yells, only this time they are directed at her sister.

“—can’t believe you would just throw yourself into a situation like that all because you wanted some _privacy_ ! I thought you were smarter than that! You’re supposed to be the older sister and _protect me_ , how can you do that when you’re dead?! That—”

The shouts are suddenly break off into unintelligible noises as Holly quickly stands and covers her sister’s mouth with her hand, whispering something sharply under her breath that only Pansy can hear, which seems to make Pansy calm down enough that Holly removes her hand from Pansy’s mouth and the two girls stalk out of the Great Hall, both of them sending identical glares to Harry and Draco as they pass.

The hall immediately explodes into excited chatter in the wake of the event.

“This is not going to go over well…” Draco mumbles, and he turns out to be right, as later that night as most of the Slytherins are lounging in the common room, Holly and Pansy walk in together with horrified looks on their faces.

“A howler,” Pansy says weakly. “Mum and Dad sent a howler.”

“Serves you right,” someone says from the edge of the common room, although Harry can’t tell who it is.

“Better open it before it explodes. It won’t be long now if you’ve carried it all the way down here,” someone else says.

Harry soon finds out what exactly a howler is without even having to ask as Holly opens the red envelope only to drop it as angry shouts filled the common room, making several students cover their ears.

“HOLLY EVE AND PANSY JEANETTE PARKINSON,” the letter shouts, echoing off the walls. “THE BOTH OF YOU HAVE DISGRACED OUR FAMILY FAR BEYOND WHAT WE COULD HAVE EVER IMAGINED. PUBLICLY ARGUING WITHOUT ANY CARE AS TO WHAT IT COULD DO TO OUR REPUTATION, SLYTHERIN’S REPUTATION. WE ALREADY HAVE TARGETS ON OUR BACKS FROM WHAT HAPPENED DURING THE WAR, I WILL NOT HAVE YOU MAKING OUR LIVES ANY WORSE. TWO DETENTIONS A WEEK FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR, SERVED WITH PROFESSOR SNAPE, AND EXPECT TO BE WORKING WITH THE HOUSE-ELF OVER SUMMER HOLIDAYS WITH NO PRIVILEGES. I AM DISGUSTED BY YOUR BEHAVIOR AND IF I EVER GET WORD THAT IT HAPPENS AGAIN YOUR CONSEQUENCES WILL BE SO MUCH WORSE.”

With that, the letter bursts into flames, leaving a small pile of ash on the floor that a nearby sixth year waved away with his wand.

No one spares either girl a sympathetic glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So, I feel really accomplished because it’s only been about a week and I’m already posting a new chapter, look at me go!
> 
> Tell me what you thought about this chapter in the comments below and let me know what your favorite parts were. I reply to all comments and absolutely love getting your feedback!
> 
> Please remember to leave kudos, as it lets me know if I’m doing a good job or not and it gives me more motivation and inspiration to write! I am so thankful to all of you who read, though, even all of you silent readers!
> 
> Subscribe to get notified next time I post a chapter and thanks for reading!  
> -2MusicLover2


	13. Researching Flamel

The school doesn’t stop buzzing with gossip about the Parkinson girls’ display in the Great Hall for another week. Harry thinks it might have gone on longer, however, had the older Slytherins not started to discreetly hex anyone they caught talking about it in an effort to take everyone’s mind off of the embarrassment.

For once in Potions, Harry doesn’t seem to be on the top of Snape’s list of misted hated students. Neither does Neville Longbottom, for that matter. Snape ignores both Harry and Neville for the entire double period of Potions in favor of tormenting Pansy, who takes it stoically and silently, her face never showing any hint of emotion, not even when Snape decides her potion will never be good enough before the class period is over and he simply vanishes it.

Harry tries to offer her some of his potion in a vial to turn in at the end of class, but she refuses it, walking out of class with her head held high as if none of it had affected her.

“She wouldn’t take it,” Harry says to Draco, slightly confused as they walk out of the dungeon classroom together with Hermione and Ron. The four of them had planned on visiting Hagrid’s that day, per Hermione’s request at the beginning of class. “And she wasn’t even trying to brew it again after he vanished it. We still had fifteen minutes left of class, she could have done  _ something _ and turned in whatever she had. It would be better than getting a zero.”

“Harry, even if she did brew something to turn in, she still would have gotten a fail grade,” Hermione reasons. “Snape is angry with her and her sister at the moment, but especially her, for making everyone’s view of Slytherin House even worse. If she had turned something in, he would have spilled it, or lost it, or done something else with it to justify her getting a poor grade.”

“That’s not right, though, he shouldn’t do that!” Harry says angrily.

“Coming from the one who was just accusing him of cursing him,” Draco mutters, which earns him a glare from Harry, but before Harry can speak he continues slightly louder. “Snape plays favorites, I’m not denying that. I’ve never denied it. For some reason he really doesn’t like you, and I’m not sure we’ll ever know exactly why. We  _ do _ know why he doesn’t like Pansy at the moment, and of course he’s going to take his anger out on her—no, that is not proof that he cursed you—by doing everything in his power to make her grades suffer. Her  _ grades _ , Harry, not her.”

“But—” Harry starts, only to get cut off by Draco shushing him to knock on the door to Hagrid’s hut.

“Hello, you four!” Hagrid says merrily. “It’s been awhile, I was startin’ to think yeh forgot abou’ me.”

Harry smiles and replies “We could never forget about you Hagrid!”

The four students all enter the hut, Draco looking as out of place as ever, although maybe slightly more so to Harry now that he has seen the boy’s home and experienced first-hand just how upper class Draco’s life actually is.

“So, how was yer Holidays? Enjoy ‘em?” Hagrid asks as he pours them all some tea.

“Yeah,” Harry says, and then he goes on to tell Hagrid all about his stay at the Malfoys’, all while making sure to leave out all of their family secrets.

“There’s actually a reason other than just visiting that we came here, Hagrid,” Hermione says, somewhat apprehensively, after they have all talked with Hagrid about their Holidays.

Hagrid seems to deflate slightly at that, and Harry feels bad that they don’t really visit him just to talk anymore. He should change that.

“We wanted to ask you a question about something we found in the castle,” Hermione continues, speaking as if she is carefully choosing her words. “The other day, we found a… a three-headed dog in the third-floor corridor. Do you… do you know anything about that?”

“Fluffy? How’d yeh find Fluffy? What were the doin’ up there?” Hagrid asks.

“It’s got a name?” Ron asks, bewildered.

“Of course it’s got a name!” Hagrid says in as equally a shocked tone as Ron. “What do yeh want teh know abou’ Fluffy? What do yeh know about Fluffy?”

“Well, we know he’s guarding something, and we want to know what. I’m afraid… I’m afraid someone might be trying to steal whatever it is… Fluffy… is guarding,” Hermione says.

Hagrid shifts in his seat slightly, then says, “Tea?” and starts to pour some more for the four first years and himself before anyone can answer him. Draco and Hermione continue to stare Hagrid down, however, as Harry and Ton politely sip their tea, until Hagrid finally gives in. “Oh, alrigh’ then. Yeah, Fluffy’s guardin’ somethin’ but it doesn’ concern yeh four. What he’s guardin’ is strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel. No one is goin’ teh steal it.”

“Nicolas Flamel?” Hermione asks curiously, and she looks to Draco to see him thinking hard about something, as if he knows the name and is trying to place it.

“I shouldn’t’a said that,” Hagrid says, panic clear in his eyes.

“It’s okay, Hagrid. Thanks for your time,” Hermione says, picking up her cloak and slipping it back on. The other three follow her lead in getting their stuff together quickly to leave the cabin.

“Thank you, Hagrid. We’ll be sure to visit again soon, for a proper visit this time!” Harry says, feeling bad that they are leaving so soon.

Hagrid doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he stays in his seat looking slightly panicked as the four children see themselves out of his cabin.

“You know something. What do you know?” Hermione asks Draco on their way back up to the castle.

The blond keeps walking up the hill with his eyes closed, however, silently mouthing to himself as Harry watches him concernedly to make sure he doesn’t fall down. “Shh,” is all he says, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

All through lunch, Harry has to repeatedly fend off his fellow Slytherins from trying to talk to Draco and possibly disrupt his concentration. Draco just sits there, mouthing to himself with his eyes closed and not even eating, until the end of lunch when he announces “Library,” and gets up from his seat.

Hermione scrambles to follow him and Ron and Harry exchange a look as they too follow their friends.

“Alchemy. Flamel is an alchemist, we want books on Alchemy,” Draco states as soon as they enter the library, quickly searching for the desired section.

Harry picks a random aisle of books and starts look at the titles, trying to find the right section. After about fifteen minutes of the four friends looking for the Alchemy section, Harry is silently yanked by his sleeve out of the aisle by Draco.

“I’ve found it,” he says, and drags Harry to the proper section where Hermione and Ron are already taking out armfuls of books to bring to a nearby table. “Here, take these and start looking for Flamel in one,” Draco says, dumping a stack of books into Harry’s arms which nearly caused him to fall over from the sudden weight of it.

They spend the rest of the afternoon flipping through books and scanning the pages for any sign of Nicolas Flamel. At dinner, the rest of their friends continually question where they had been all afternoon.

“The library,” Draco replies. “We’re trying to find out about some guy named Nicolas Flamel. You should help us tomorrow.”

Pansy shrugs, and Blaise and Theo both nod their heads as they eat. Greg says “As long as we get food,” to which Vince also agrees.

So, Saturday morning, Harry and Draco get up extra early and head to the kitchens under the cover of the invisibility cloak where they request a large amount of food to get them and their friends through the day, then they head to the library, making sure to hide all of the food under the cloak so Madam Pince doesn’t kick them out.

Unfortunately, having every single first year Slytherin plus two Gryffindors doesn’t make looking for Nicolas Flamel go any faster than Harry thought it would.

“This is  _ boring _ ,” he groans as he opens his third book that morning, already confident he wouldn’t find anything. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything else about Flamel, Draco? There’s way too many books on Alchemy to go through them all.”

“I’m trying to think, but it escapes me,” Draco replies. It seems to Harry that Draco’s frustration at not being able to figure this mystery out is driving him mad. Instead of the usual, put-together boy that he is, Draco looks completely disheveled with his hair sticking up in every direction, his tie crooked, and his robes slightly wrinkled. “I know I’ve seen his name somewhere before but I can’t remember where.”

“Uh… Draco…” Vince says cautiously, as he had been trying to get the other boy’s attention for the past ten minutes without any luck. “Draco, I think I found something.”

“What is it, Vincent? How could you have possibly found something when you haven’t even been looking through those books?” Draco snaps.

“I… I got Dumbledore’s Chocolate Frog Card—”

“Oh, yes, because that’s just so much help. Thank you so much for taking my attention away from actually doing the thing we’re trying to do so you could tell me you got a bloody Chocolate Frog Card with our headmaster on it.”

Vince huffs out a breath in annoyance. “Well, if you would give me a chance to tell you, then you would know that Flamel is mentioned on Dumbledore’s Chocolate Frog Card. I guess you just don’t want to know what it says, though, and so I think I’ll be going to get some more sweets.”

Draco grabs Vincent’s arm as he passes by him and starts to plead. “No, no, no, please, Vince. I’m sorry, I’ll be nicer. What does the card say about Flamel?”

Vince seems to contemplate whether this begging is good enough for him before he ends up sitting back down. “Nicolas and Dumbledore did work on Alchemy together, which is part of why Dumbledore is famous,” Vincent replies, showing the card to Draco.

“We… we already knew that. That’s why we’re looking in books about alchemy…” Draco says, defeated and looking altogether disheartened that this is the only ‘new’ information they have learned.

Harry pauses in his flipping through books to look around at all of his friends, each looking increasingly frazzled the longer they stay in the library due to Draco’s insane need to figure out who Flamel is. Then, he gets an idea.

“Hey, guys,” he says, almost timidly and afraid of incurring Draco’s wrath. “What of—and this is just an idea, we don’t have to do it—what if we had half of us continue looking through all of the Alchemy books while the other half looks through all of the books with mentions of Dumbledore. We could just ask Madam Pince to get us books with Dumbledore in them and have some of us look through those. I mean, if so far the only instances we’ve ever heard of Flamel is in his work with Dumbledore, it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

Draco plants his face in his hands. “I’m a complete and utter  _ idiot _ ,” he says.

“Um… I don’t think so, but, uh… why?” Harry asks.

“If we’re going to ask Madam Pince for all the books with Dumbledore in them, why not just make it a little bit easier on ourselves and ask for all of the books with Nicolas Flamel in them? We could have figured this out  _ yesterday _ if we would have just done that in the first place,” Draco says, then he gets up and heads over to Madam Pince at the counter. Harry watches him talk to her for a second before she nods her head and they start wandering through the shelves together, until Draco comes back to their table with a stack of books.

“Here we are,” he says, setting them down on the table. “Everything that mentions Nicolas Flamel.”

He picks the top one off of the stack and everyone watches with rapt attention as he opens it, flipping through the pages until stopping somewhere close to the the middle. He takes a moment to read before tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling.

“The Philosopher's Stone.”

“The what?” Ron asks, confusion clear in his voice.

Draco shuts the book back up and lays his head down on the table. “The Philosopher’s Stone,” he says, his voice slightly muffled from the way he is laying, “was invented by Nicolas Flamel, and it can do two things for you. One, it creates the Elixir of Life, which grants the drinker immortality as long as they drink it. Two, it can turn any metal into gold. I guarantee you that  _ that _ is what is hidden beneath the trapdoor.”

“Wait,” Harry says, suddenly remembering something. “Remember way back at the beginning of the year when there was that article about someone breaking into a Gringotts vault?”

The others all nod and give small signs of affirmation.

“Well, Hagrid and I had visited that vault and took something out of it, the only thing that was there. Hagrid said that it would be safer at Hogwarts. What if the Philosopher’s Stone is what he took out of the vault?”

“So someone’s trying to steal it?” Ron asks.

“Well, yeah, wouldn’t you?” says Blaise. “Immortality and all the wealth you could ever want, that’s definitely something I’d want to steal.”

“Do you think they’re still trying to steal it, though?” Pansy asks.

Hermione nods. “Definitely. I mean, that troll on Halloween. How else would it get in other than someone letting it into the school? They were probably using it as a distraction to get the Stone. Obviously, it didn’t work, but they’re still trying.”

“So someone is trying to break into the school and steal the Philosopher’s Stone from where it’s guarded by a three-headed dog,” Ron says, his tone worried.

“Yeah, the only question is who,” Draco answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? Three chapters in one month? It’s unheard of! It’s a miracle!
> 
> It’s what happens when both my school and my work get closed for the next month due to COVID-19 and I’m left with nothing to do because everything is closed. So, updates are going to be pretty frequent over the next 4 weeks, possibly longer, so make sure to subscribe to get notified every time I post a new chapter!
> 
> We’re getting to the end of the first book, and I’m pretty excited to finish writing it and move on to writing their second year at Hogwarts! We’ll definitely be on the second book by the end of these four weeks, and I already have some parts of it planned out that I’m so excited to write.
> 
> Also, I’ve decided that I will make an “extra features” book in which I will put things like the students’ schedules and all of the chapters that I started before rewriting them, so thanks to TRIPLELLL for telling me to just go ahead and do it :)
> 
> This chapter did turn out to be a little short, it’s only about 2,300 words, but I promise the rest of the chapters will be a decent length!
> 
> Please remember to leave kudos, I love and appreciate everyone who does, and don’t forget to comment with your thoughts on this chapter, because I love replying to them and will reply to every comment!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> -2MusicLover2


	14. Strangers in Pubs

“Holly! Holly, wait!” Harry calls to the girl as she passes through the common room that night on the way to her detention.

“What, Harry? I’m kind of in a hurry, I should have been in Snape’s office ten minutes ago but I kind of lost track of time in my, uh, study room,” she replies impatiently.

Harry nods and quickly walks over to her so he doesn’t have to shout at her across the room. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Listen, after your detention, you need to go up there and get all of your stuff and take it out of that room.”

“Um… why?”

“We went to see Hagrid and apparently Fluffy is guarding something—”

“Fluffy?” Holly interrupts your ask, looking completely confused.

“Yes, Fluffy. The dog. His name is Fluffy. But that’s besides the point. Fluffy is guarding something that is extremely valuable and someone is trying to steal it. We don’t know who, but they’ve already tried before, on Halloween when they used a troll as a diversion to sneak up there and try to get past Fluffy,” Harry explains, hoping Holly will understand and stop going to the third-floor corridor.

She looks at him for a second, thinking, before she seems to remember she has somewhere to go. “I think I might have some information for you on that, but I really do need to get to this detention, so can I tell you afterwards?”

Before he can answer, however, she leaves the common room, and Harry heads back over to his friends sitting on the plush green couches with blankets wrapped around them.

“She said she might know something about someone trying to steal the Stone,” Harry tells them as he sits back down and wraps his blanket back around himself.

“She knows about the Stone?” Blaise asks, pausing in copying down some notes from his Transfiguration book to look up at him.

Harry shakes his head. “No, she just said she had some information for me about someone trying to steal what Fluffy is guarding.”

“She is up there a lot. Maybe she saw who it is…” Draco suggests.

~*~

The next morning at breakfast, Hermione suggests going down to Hagrid’s again to see what other information they can get out of him about the Philosopher’s Stone and Fluffy. On the way out of the Great Hall, the group passes by Holly, who completely ignores them due to Pansy’s presence, which makes Harry slightly frustrated. He had been looking forward to finding out what she knew, but when Pansy had sat down with them Holly went off to her room.

When Hermione knocks on the door, Hagrid answers it wearing an apron and dragon hide gloves, which Harry finds suspicious. What Harry finds even more suspicious is that upon seeing the group of first years at his door, Hagrid shuts it in their faces and they hear a lock click.

“Rude,” Pansy huffs, crossing her arms in annoyance. “This is why no one visits him.”

“Be nice, he looked like he was in the middle of something,” Ron says.

“Yes, well, he could have said something. A simple ‘I’m busy, come back tomorrow’ would have sufficed,” says Blaise.

Hermione knocks on the door again, a certain sense of determination in her eyes as she doesn’t stop knocking until Hagrid unlocks and reopens the door.

“We’d really like to talk with you, Hagrid,” she says.

“Uh, now’s not really th’ bes’ time,” he says, looking behind him into his cabin.

Draco narrows his eyes at him and tries to look around him into the cabin, but Hagrid keeps the door too close to his body for Draco to see anything. “What are you hiding in there?”

“Come on, Hagrid, please. This is important,” Harry pleads as he nudges Draco to get him to shut up and stop hurting their chances of Hagrid talking to them.

Hagrid looks at them all for a moment before he seems to deflate slightly as he concedes. “Oh, alrigh’,” he says. “But yeh have teh promise not teh go tellin’ anyone abou’ this.”

“Tell anyone about what?” Ron asks as they all get ushered inside the cabin, and the Slytherins look around in slight disgust, other than Draco who is already used to it from the few times he had been to visit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Instead of answering the question, Hagrid motions towards the fireplace where, sitting in the flames, is a large black oval-shaped object. Everyone except for Harry seems to immediately understand, as they all look at the object with mixtures of shock, fear, and amazement on their faces, while Harry is just left confused.

“Is that what I think it is?” Blaise asks.

“A dragon egg,” Hagrid says proudly, much more welcome to their presence now that they have seen what he was trying to hide.

“I’ve always wanted one,” Draco says with an awestruck smile. “You can’t be named ‘Dragon’ and not want a pet dragon; but… aren’t they illegal?”

Hagrid seems to get a little uncomfortable at the question, and he shuffles around a bit. “Well, yeah, but tha’s why yeh can’ tell no one. It’s on’y an egg, though, I can’ jus’ give ‘im up!”

“Where’d you even get it?” asks Pansy.

“Won it in the pub las’ night, playin’ cards with a stranger. Seemed rather pleased teh be rid of it, now I think abou’ it,” Hagrid answers, looking a little puzzled.

“Of course they were eager to get rid of it,” Draco says, “it’s illegal!”

“What do you plan on doing with it once it’s hatched?” Ron asks.

“I’ve got a few books on raisin’ ‘em and such. They’re a bit outdated, but I s’pose they’ll work all the same.”

Harry looks from the egg to each of his friends and then to Hagrid in bewilderment.

“Hagrid… you live in a wooden house,” Hermione says cautiously.

Hagrid doesn’t seem to be listening as he stokes the fire for the egg.

“Well, uh, as we said before, we came to talk to you about something important,” Harry says, realizing that there was no way they can reason with Hagrid and it would just be easier to drop it for now.

“Wha’s tha’?” Hagrid asks.

“We know about what Fluffy is guarding—the Philosopher’s Stone—and we think someone is trying to steal it,” Harry says, and Hagrid gives him the same kind of look that each of them had been giving him moments before.

“Nonsense,” he says, as if that’s the end of the discussion.

“But why is it nonsense?” Hermione asks. “Someone had tried to steal it from Gringotts already before. The only reason they failed was that you had already taken it out of the vault.”

“It’s nonsense ‘cause no one in their righ’ mind would try an’ steal somethin’ from Hogwarts. It’s dangerous an’ there’s more’n jus’ Fluffy guardin’ tha’ stone,” Hagrid reasons.

“More than just Fluffy? What else is there?” Blaise questions.

“Forget what else there is, my question is why you would think you  _ need _ more than just Fluffy. It’s a giant three-headed dog, no one’s getting past that!” Pansy exclaims.

Hagrid makes a face. “I shouldn’t’a told yeh tha’. Yeh already know too much. Go on now, the lot o’ yeh. Get back on up teh the castle. ‘S abou’ lunch time, innit?”

And just like that, they are shooed out of his hut, minds buzzing with this new information.

~*~

The next time they go down to Hagrid’s hut is a little over three weeks later when Harry gets a letter at breakfast that simply reads ‘ _ It’s hatching _ ’. Draco, Harry, Blaise, Theo, and Pansy all hurry down to Hagrid’s hut, glad to have a free period, but also slightly sorry for Hermione and Ron who have Herbology and promise to meet them at the hut as soon as the period is over.

Watching a dragon hatch is actually quite boring, Harry realizes, as they all sit in a circle around Hagrid’s table, watching the egg wobble every once in a while as small clicking sounds came from within. Only occasionally would the dragon tap hard enough on its prison that a crack would appear, and Harry quickly gets tired of watching it.

Finally, the bell up at the castle rings, and shortly thereafter Hermione and Ron join them in waiting. By this point, there are several deep cracks along the shell and the clicking had grown louder and more frequent, however, watching this for an hour had made Harry still quite bored with it all.

That is, until there is a sudden scraping noise and the egg splits open, the baby dragon spilling out onto the table.

“Aww,” Draco says. “This just makes me want one even more! Can I help you raise it?”

Pansy smacks him upside the head. “Don’t encourage this,” she hisses, although Hagrid doesn’t seem to notice as he is entirely focused on the withered, black dragon, which sneezes, emitting sparks from its flared nostrils.

“Hagrid, that’s a Norwegian Ridgeback,” Ron says. “They’re really rare, and quite dangerous. My brother Charlie works with them. I’m not sure you should keep it.”

“Isn’t he  _ beautiful _ ?” Hagrid asks, completely ignoring Ron’s quite reasonable statement to reach out and attempt to stroke the dragon’s head.

Harry isn’t at all surprised when it tries to bite Hagrid.

“Look! He already knows his mummy!” Hagrid exclaims.

“Adorable,” Draco says, giving the dragon almost the same adoring look as Hagrid.

The rest of the first years exchange apprehensive looks.

“Absolutely nutters, the both of them,” Ron says, not at all quietly, but he continues to go ignored by Hagrid and Draco.

~*~

From that moment forward, every ounce of free time they have is spent helping Hagrid with the dragon now named Norbert, as much as Draco disapproved of the name.

“I just don’t understand,” he says one day, walking back up to the castle from Hagrid’s hut before Transfiguration. “There are loads of better names for a dragon. Why choose  _ Norbert _ ?”

“I don’t know, Draco. I really don’t know,” Harry replies, still not understanding this whole infatuation both his best friend and Hagrid have with Norbert.

It takes a week before Hagrid finally sees some reason and concedes that Norbert would be better off someplace else. All it takes is Norbert biting Ron, causing his hand to swell to twice its normal size and resulting in him in the Hospital Wing, trying to convince Madam Pomfrey that it was just a dog bite.

“Really, she probably knows a dragon bite when she sees one and it’ll only be a matter of time before she’s sending Dumbledore around the castle to look for it,” Harry tells Hagrid that night when it’s just them, Draco, and Hermione.

“Yer probably righ’,” Hagrid says with a deep sigh. “I jus’ don’ know wha’ teh do with ‘im! He’s on’y a baby after all, he can’ survive in the wild!”

“Well, Ron and I have been talking and I think we came up with an idea,” Hermione says.

Hagrid sniffs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Hermione says with a nod. “Ron’s brother Charlie in Romania, he works with dragons, and like he said before, Norwegian Ridgebacks is one of the breeds he works with. If we can send a letter to him to get him to come get Norbert, then Norbert can grow up with his own kind, and Charlie can watch after him especially for you.”

“Tha’s… tha’s sweet,” Hagrid says. “Oh, I’m gonna miss him!”

Draco, however, still isn’t completely convinced.

“It’s Weasley’s own fault, honestly,” he complains to Harry as Harry writes out the letter to Charlie. “If he would have just been wearing the gloves, he would be fine and we could keep Norbert. He’s still only a baby after all, just like Hagrid said. He isn’t strong enough yet to bite through the dragon hide gloves, and we can just train him and work with him so once he is strong enough, it won’t be an issue. Let me see that letter, I have a few questions for Weasley’s brother.”

Harry rolls his eyes as he hands over the letter, then starts reading over Draco’s shoulder as he makes his own additions.

_ Charlie, _

_ My name is Harry Potter, I’m a friend of Ron’s from school. I’m writing to you because Ron was bitten by a dragon today. He’s okay, Madam Pomfrey is getting him sorted out, but Ron has told me you work with dragons and we were hoping you could take this one. See, Hagrid got it as an egg a few weeks ago, and now that it’s getting bigger, we’re worried about what could possibly happen with it being at Hogwarts. We know dragons are illegal, so we were hoping this could be as discreet as possible, we don’t want to get Hagrid into any trouble. _

_ Also, I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, am well-invested in and very concerned about the wellbeing of this dragon. His name is Norbert, and he’s a Norwegian Ridgeback, which I know is extremely rare. I’ve grown rather fond of him and just wanted to make sure you are qualified to take care of him. I request that with your response you send some form of credentials to verify your qualifications. _

_ Thank you in advance, _

_ Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy _

“Do you really need ‘verification of his qualifications’?” Harry asks.

“Yes, now where’s Hedwig? Mother and Father might get concerned and find out about all of this if I use my owl.”

“Come on, let’s take the cloak and head up to the owlery.”

~*~

The response takes another week, in which Norbert grows to be about three feet in length.

Harry just about throws a party right then and there when he reads the letter Charlie sent in reply.

_ Harry, _

_ Thanks for writing me, I’m glad to know Ron’s okay, and I’d be happy to take the Norwegian Ridgeback. If I had gotten your letter a little sooner, I would have had you send him over with some friends who were to be visiting me, but we can still make this work. _

_ I can make it to the Astronomy Tower on Friday night at midnight, as long as you can get the dragon up there. I’ll have a couple of friends with me and we can hook a carrier for the dragon to our brooms to carry between us. _

_ Also, I’ve included a copy of my training certificate as well as a few other things for Draco, so he can rest assured that I will take extremely good care of Norbert. _

_ Wish Ron well for me, and I’ll see you at the top of the Astronomy Tower on Friday! _

_ Charlie _

“Perfect!” Harry says happily as Draco scowls at the papers Charlie included for him. He seems to be angry that he has no excuses for Norbert to not go with Charlie.

“Yes, well,” Draco says moodily.

They spend the next week at Hagrid’s even more than previously, if that’s even possible. Draco seems intent on making sure the dragon will remember him when it goes off to live in Romania with Charlie, and gives him different gifts, which are always immediately torn to pieces by the dragon.

Friday night cannot come soon enough in Harry’s opinion, however, and it is with extreme elation that he coaxes the dragon into a large crate that Hagrid and Draco both filled with pillows, a blanket, and several stuffed animals as well as some rat meat and brandy to keep him well-fed during his trip.

Fitting under the invisibility cloak with Harry, Hermione, Draco, and the crate is a bit of a hassle. They have to make sure they kept to the shadows, just in case their feet were showing. The relief that floods through Harry upon their arrival at the top of the Astronomy Tower, however, is enough to completely wash away the anxiety and dread that he had been experiencing for the past month since the dragon had hatched.

It is soon after they arrive in the Astronomy Tower and uncover themselves that Charlie and a few of his friends arrive on their brooms to take Norbert away.

Charlie is an altogether cheery guy, even in the face of Draco’s moodiness and many questions about how Norbert’s care will be handled, and he continues to act kind when he finally says that they need to leave before it gets to be too bright out and they risk getting caught with an illegal dragon.

Finally, Charlie and his friends are in the air, Norbert suspended in his crate between them, and Harry, Hermione, and Draco watch as they shrinks into specks in the distance and ultimately disappear from their vision.

“I’m going to miss him,” Draco says as they descend the stairs back to the main part of the castle. “He was a good dragon.

Harry snorts.

“No, really, he was!” Draco defends. “He didn’t burn anything down and he only ever bit Ron! I’d say that’s pretty good for a dragon.”

“Well, even if he was  _ decent _ , I still think it’s better this—”

“Out of bed in the middle of the night? Ooh, we  _ are _ in trouble.”

Of course, they just had to run into Filch the one time they forget the cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So, I’ve decided that I’m going to start posting new chapters three times a week, now that I’ve stumbled upon all of this extra time. Chapters will be posted on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, at no particular time, from now until further notice, which will be in at least a month. This will definitely still be a thing when we get into book 2, which we are quickly approaching. And yes, I realize that I’m actually posting this chapter really early Wednesday morning, but it’s the intention that matters and I completely intended to post on Tuesday. My ceiling was just really distracting today as I listened to music.
> 
> Completely unrelated to this story, but I have recently started writing an original fiction story which you can find at https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3344887/1/Fall so you should check it out if you like action stories, or superheroes, or are really bored because you’re stuck at home with nothing to do (like me), or you’re looking for some new original fiction stories to read :)
> 
> I want to know what your favorite part of this chapter was, so please comment with that, and also what information you think Holly might have for Harry. If anyone could also tell me why every time I typed “egg” it auto-corrected to “Eggman” that would also be really nice to know.
> 
> As you can probably tell I’m extremely bored and I’ve kind of started to ramble, so I’m going to end this now before it gets to be too much.
> 
> Please leave kudos, those are always appreciated! Remember, I reply to all comments and always love reading what you have to say! Subscribe for notifications whenever I post!
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> -2MusicLover2


	15. Detention in the Forest

“ _Explain yourselves_ ,” Professor McGonagall demands as soon as Filch brings them to her and he whispers something in which Harry distinctly hears ‘ _Astronomy Tower_ ’ and ‘ _chains are ready to use_ ’. “Never mind, we’re going to go find Professor Snape, as two of your are in his house, and we’ll discuss this and your punishment together.”

Harry immediately starts internally panicking. If Snape found out the truth about the dragon, he could say goodbye to Hogwarts and so could Hagrid.

The whole walk to Professor Snape’s office in the dungeons has Harry worried about the possible outcomes of this situation and he can’t even think clearly long enough to come up with a viable excuse as to why the three of them would be in the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night.

Luckily, Hermione and Draco seem to have it figured out.

“We were studying, professors,” Hermione says confidently.

“Studying?” Snape asks skeptically.

Draco nods in affirmation. “Harry needed help with his star chart and Hermione said she could help him, but she’s not in Slytherin so I said it would be better if I helped him and then we may have gotten into a small argument about it, but we ended up deciding to make it into a little competition where we both help and he says who was more of a help and so we went up to the Astronomy Tower to do that tonight since it’s a clear night.”

Draco’s story does nothing to help their case, however, as both Snape and McGonagall continue giving their skeptical looks.

“Do you have these star charts with you then? I assume you do, as that was the whole reason for your studying,” McGonagall says finally, and the three friends purse their lips, looking down at their feet, knowing that they’ve been caught.

“Studying indeed,” Snape says coldly. “I don’t expect to get an answer out of you about what you were really doing in the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night with using any Veritaserum, and I truthfully don’t actually care what you were doing. I do, however, care that you have broken school rules and wandered the castle after curfew, for which, I believe, fifty house points will be taken from each of you. You shall also serve detention, the details of which will be sent to you once Minerva and I have decided upon them. Until then, you are free to go, but if you break any more school rules your punishment will be much more severe.”

“Off you go, then,” says McGonagall. “Straight to bed.”

Harry isn’t quite so keen on heading back to Slytherin common room, though, and he tells as much to Draco once they separate from Hermione.

“My cloak is up there, what if someone takes it,” Harry says worriedly.

“Oh, come on, then. Let’s be quick about it, I wouldn’t put it past Snape to check our dorm and see if we’re in it,” Draco replies.

They hurry to the Astronomy Tower, making sure to stay in the shadows and not even let any of the portraits see them. Luckily, Harry easily spots the cloak, wadded up in a ball on the floor, and he throws it over them so they can hurry back to their dormitory without having to worry about being seen as they run through the corridors.

As soon as they make it back into the Slytherin common room, Harry yanks the cloak off of them and they dash into their room, jumping into their beds as Harry throws the cloak under his bed.

“Is all of this commotion really necessary?” Blaise groans from his bed as he sits up and casts _lumos_ to see.

“We had accidentally left the cloak in the Astronomy Tower when we were coming back and Filch caught us,” Harry explains. “Snape and McGonagall gave us each a detention and we each lost our houses fifty points. We had to run to go get the cloak in case Snape came to make sure we were back in our dorm.”

“Fifty points each? You’re telling me you just lost Slytherin one-hundred points? All those points we earned winning that Quidditch match against Gryffindor are gone? I’m sorry, I don’t care if you _did_ just get rid of that bloody dragon, I can’t talk to you,” Blaise says angrily.

~*~

Blaise seems to have forgotten completely about his anger in the morning. That is, until they see the giant hourglasses with gems showing each house’s points is one-hundred points emptier than it had been the night before.

“You actually did get caught and lost us one-hundred points,” he says. “I thought I was just having a nightmare.”

“Not a nightmare,” Harry says, feeling like he might throw up. He didn’t even know it was possible to lose this many points at once until now. He can only imagine what his housemates will say when they all find out that he was the one to lose them their points.

It doesn’t take long for him to find out, however. The story of how he and Draco had been caught wandering the corridors in the middle of the night quickly circulates through the school and the students from other houses all start cheering him on for making it easier for them to win the house cup while the Slytherins take to ignoring him and pretending he doesn’t exist. It’s the worst Harry has felt about anything in a long time, possibly ever. The only people that seem willing to continue talking to him as if nothing had happened are Draco, Ron, and Hermione.

Ron even goes so far as to try and make him feel better about it all. “Fred and George are constantly losing points for Gryffindor and no one ever stays mad at them long. This’ll all blow over soon enough, just you wait,” he says.

To try and better cope with the sudden isolation, Harry decides to spend most of his time in his room. He figures if he isolates himself from everyone, then he can just pretend that they’re not mad at him.

Then, one morning at breakfast, Harry, Draco, and Hermione all receive identical notes.

_Your detention will take place at eleven o’clock tonight. Meet Mr Filch in the Entrance Hall._

_Prof. M. McGonagall_

Harry, Draco, and Hermione all look at each other with identical grimaces. If Filch was to be involved, it could not mean they were doing anything good.

Harry spends the entire day worrying about what he might be forced to do during his detention, and by the time they all meet Filch in the Entrance Hall, the actual punishment doesn’t seem to bad in comparison to the things he had been thinking of. Draco doesn’t seem to agree, however.

“The Forbidden Forest! You expect us to go into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night? There are all sorts of horrible creatures in there!” he exclaims, his face paling considerably as they all walk down to Hagrid’s hut.

“Should have thought about that before you went wandering the castle breaking rules, shouldn’t you?” Filch says darkly. “If it were up to me, we’d still be using all of the old punishments and you’d all be hanging by your wrists from chains. Still got them in my office, keep them well oiled just in case. Oh, but hard work still does the trick.”

He goes on muttering about this the entire walk across the grounds until they meet Hagrid, who is holding a crossbow over his shoulder with Fang the boarhound at his heel.

“’Bout time,” Hagrid says. “I on’y been waitin’ ‘bout half an hour. C’mon, then. Listen carefully, ‘cause we’re goin’ the be doin’ some dangerous work tonigh’.”

Filch makes a strange expression that is partly a scowl and partly an enthusiastic grin before he heads back off up to the castle. Harry gulps and he feels Draco stiffen beside him, and he looks over to his best friend to see panic clear in his face.

“See this silvery stuff here?” Hagrid asks when they get to the forests edge. “Tha’s unicorn’s blood. Now, I found a dead one las’ Wednesday, but this one’s bin hurt badly by summat. It’s our job to go in there and find it. We gotta be careful, though, ‘cause whatever’s bin hurtin’ these unicorns is likely still out there. Righ’, then. Let’s get to it.”

Harry soon understands just why the forest is forbidden, although he can’t bring himself to fathom why anyone might want to venture there in the first place. Everything seems so much darker than what it would be in a normal forest, and he has a nagging feeling in his gut that tells him he’s being watched. Whenever he looks out into the trees to see if he can catch whatever seems to be out there, he just becomes more frightened as he sees shadows move around them but can’t make out any definite shapes.

Eventually, they come to a fork in the path they had been following, and they all look to Hagrid to see which way to go.

“We should split up, then,” he says, and Harry’s stomach drops. “’Ermione, you can come with me this way; Harry, Draco, you can take Fang up tha’ path. If yeh run into any trouble, jus’ send up red sparks with yer wands an’ we’ll come find yeh.”

With slight trepidation, Harry and Draco take Fang down the path and away from Hagrid and Hermione, keeping a lookout for any more signs of the unicorn and listening closely in case anything tries to sneak up on them.

“You know, when we got detention, I figured we’d just be writing lines or something like that. Not only is this servants’ work, but this place is dangerous for full-grown wizards. We’re eleven! Why would they send an eleven year old someplace as dangerous as this?” Draco says, his voice edging into hysterics.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Harry replies, sweeping the lantern in front of them to see better.

“Harry. Harry, what’s that?” Draco says suddenly, grabbing Harry’s arm and forcing him to stop walking. He points slightly ahead of them, into the trees, where Harry can just barely make out a strange mass on the forest floor.

Ignoring Draco’s protests, Harry takes a few careful steps forwards in order to see better, and drops the lantern when he sees a unicorn, laying dead, with a cloaked figure hunched over it as if drinking its blood.

When the lantern hits the ground, it shatters and the light goes out, but Harry has just enough time to see the figure look up, directly at him, and then start slithering across the floor towards him. Just over Draco’s terrified screams for Harry to run, Harry can hear the cloak rustling across the leaves as it makes Its way towards him and he stumbles backwards.

Just when Harry is sure he is about to be killed, something large jumps in front of him and scares the creature off. After a closer look, Harry can see that the thing that saved him is a horse, except with a human torso where the head should be.

“Harry Potter,” the centaur says in a regal sort of voice. “You must get back to Hagrid; the forest is not safe, especially for you. Come, you and your friend can ride on my back, I will take you to Hagrid. My name is Firenze.”

The centaur lowers Itself carefully, and Harry and Draco both clamber onto its back, shaking with fear of what they had just experienced. Before they can leave, however, more galloping sounds through the trees and two more centaurs appear.

“Firenze! You have humans on your back, have you no shame? Are you a common mule?” one of the centaurs asks in fury upon seeing Firenze with Harry and Draco.

“Do you realize who this is?” Firenze retorts. “This is the Potter boy. The quicker we can get him out of this forest, the better it is for everyone.”

Harry looks between the centaurs as they argue, confused and terrified, until suddenly Firenze tears onto his hind legs and Harry and Draco both clutch at him in order to not fall off, and then they are speeding through the forest. In a particular dense patch of forest, Firenze finally stops, and Harry asks what just happened.

“Do you know what unicorn blood is used for?” Firenze asks, and both Harry and Draco shake their heads. “Slaying a unicorn is a monstrous thing. The blood will keep you alive, but at a great cost. As soon as the blood touches your lips you will have but a half life, a cursed life, and only one who has nothing to lose would commit such a crime. Harry Potter, do you know what is hidden within the school as we speak?”

Harry’s eyes widen.

“The Philosopher’s Stone—the Elixir of Life—but—”

“And can you think of anyone who would wish to return to great power, do anything for that, and who has waited a great many years to do so?”

Just as Harry thinks _Voldemort_ , Hagrid and Hermione run up to them, Fang trotting along after them. Harry hadn’t even noticed he had run off In all of the commotion.

“Harry! Draco! Are you alright? What happened?” Hermione gasps as Firenze lowers himself to let them back down.

“This is where I must leave you Harry. Good luck. The planets have been read wrongly before, even by centaurs, and I hope this is one of those times,” Firenze says.

“Planets, what planets?” Harry asks, but Firenze is long gone, already disappeared through the thick trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Hope you’re all doing well!
> 
> I’ve been looking forward to writing this chapter for a long time, not quite sure why, I just have. It was just as enjoyable as I thought it would be, except for the fact that writing Hagrid’s dialogue does some really unpleasant things to my Grammarly score :( Oh, well, it is what it is.
> 
> What did you enjoy about this chapter? What did you not enjoy? I love knowing your opinions, so please comment! I reply to everyone :)
> 
> Next chapter will be posted Sunday, March 22, but you should still subscribe so you can know when I post it!
> 
> Please remember to leave kudos, I appreciate it so much when you do!
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and stay safe everyone!  
> -2MusicLover2


	16. Harry’s Accusations

“You’re telling me that You-Know-Who is still alive, and is hiding in the Forbidden Forest, drinking unicorn’s blood, biding his time until the most opportune moment for him to steal the Philosopher’s Stone strikes and then he can come back to power?” Ron asks incredulously the next morning at breakfast as Harry and Draco explain to him and Hermione exactly what had gone down in the forest.

Harry nods solemnly. “Yeah, but listen, I think he’s getting help from someone at Hogwarts. I think maybe he had something to do with when I was cursed at that Quidditch match and it’s not like Voldemort—” his friends all flinch and say his name reprimandingly “—can just waltz into the school and go unnoticed by everyone. He has to be having someone help him, and I want to figure out who so we can stop them.”

“It would have to be a teacher,” Hermione says. “Only a teacher would be capable of the type of magic used to curse you at that Quidditch match. I mean, a sixth or seventh year _might_ be able to handle it, but it seems very unlikely to me. I just don’t know of any teachers that _would_ do something like that.”

“Oh, really?” asks Harry. “I can. It was prob—”

“Harry Potter, I want you to think long and hard about what you’re about to say before it comes out of your mouth,” Draco says.

“It makes so much sense, though!” Harry says, knowing that they had all guessed who he was going to say.

“And why, exactly, does it make sense that _my Godfather_ is working with the Dark Lord? Hm? Do elaborate, please,” Draco says, his annoyance and anger with Harry clearly rising.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not because he’s your Godfather. It’s because he hates me, no other teachers were in a place where they could look at me to curse me, and he’s just an altogether creepy bloke.”

“Okay, he is pretty creepy, you have to admit that,” Ron says, “and he also makes it no secret that he hates Harry, but Harry, you were in the teachers’ box. It was filled with witches and wizards who are all fully capable of cursing you.”

“Which of them would other than Snape, though?” Harry asks.

Draco purses his lips then looks back up with a somewhat forced smile on his face. “Wanna check over the answers for our charms homework?”

~*~

That night, Harry and Draco are sitting together in the common room working on homework to avoid the topic from breakfast, when Holly comes and sits down directly in front of them.

“Hello, my darlings. I see my bratty little sister has finally left you alone and I have some information for you,” she says with a grin stretching across her face.

“What kind of information?” Draco asks, clearly suspicious of what Holly might be up to.

She tilts her head to the side which makes her smile look slightly maniacal and insane. “The fun, secret kind.”

Harry and Draco exchange looks filled somehow with apprehension, curiosity, and excitement.

“Go on, what is it, then?” Draco prods.

“Oh, you just take all of the fun out of everything,” Holly says with a roll of her eyes. “Okay, so, remember how I had said that the reason I figured out that music puts Fluffy to sleep is because I heard music and s’mores coming from his room? Well, what I didn’t tell you is that sometimes I hear that music and I don’t go in there when I do because it’s being used by someone else. So, one time, I heard music, but I really needed to work on something, so I waited in the corridor for someone to come out and you’ll never guess who it was!”

“Snape,” Harry says instantly.

“No. Well, yes, but he was with someone,” says Holly.

Harry sticks his tongue out at Draco. “Told you he’s trying to steal the stone.”

Draco raises an eyebrow at Harry. “This proves literally nothing. Who was he with, Holly?”

“That’s the fun part!” Holly grins somehow even wider than before, then trains her face into a serious expression, although Harry can still see a hint of a smile in her eyes. “It was Snape and _Quirrell_!” she whispers excitedly. “Now, at first I just thought I had discovered an affair, and I was just like ‘good for them’ and I wasn’t going to tell anyone because they deserve their privacy, you know? And then I caught them having an argument once, and I thought maybe Quirrell had strayed because Snape was going on and on about _loyalty_ and _honor_ and _this_ and _that_ , but then you mentioned the Stone and how someone was trying to steal it, so I thought the two might be connected. So, I believe either Snape or Quirrell is trying to steal the Stone and the other is trying to stop them.”

Harry and Draco both stare at Holly for a moment, mouths open slightly in shock.

“Aw, did I break your little heads? I’m sorry,” Holly says sympathetically.

“No, I just—” Draco starts and then cuts himself off to gather his thoughts. “You thought Snape and Quirrell were a thing and you didn’t tell me?”

“That’s what you got out of that?” Harry asks incredulously. “Also, it’s definitely Snape trying to steal the Stone. Quirrell could never, he’s so innocent!”

“What makes you say that?” Holly asks.

“I mean, he’s just so…” Harry starts, but realizes he doesn’t actually know how to continue his thoughts.

“So what? Why’s he so innocent compared to Snape?” Draco asks accusingly.

“Because, well, I mean, Snape, he’s just so—ugh, I don’t know,” Harry says in frustration.

Draco nods his head. “Of course. Back to this again, you’re gonna accuse Snape of every little thing that goes wrong just because you don’t like him. That’s great, just perfect really.”

With that, Draco stands up, picks up all of his things, and goes off to bed angrily.

~*~

Draco refuses to talk to Harry at all the next day and by lunch, Harry is tired of it.

“Holly!” he calls to the girl and she flinches.

“Not again,” he hears her mumble before she stands up. “I’m just finishing up eating. Wanna go to the common room?”

Harry vividly remembers the fallout from when Pansy had yelled at Holly in the Great Hall, and he decides he doesn’t want to experience that type of thing firsthand. “Fine,” he says, and they walk back to Slytherin’s common room.

“Your whole goal was to get me to accuse Snape again so Draco would get mad at me, wasn’t it?” Harry accuses as soon as they step into the common room.

“No,” Holly says with a look on her face as if this was the most absurd thing she has ever heard. “Why would I do that? What do I care whether you two are friends or not?”

“Entertainment,” Harry suggests. “You got bored and decided to try and make us fight for entertainment. Either that or payback for when we told Pansy about you and Fluffy’s room and she got mad and yelled at you in front of everyone.”

Holly rolls her eyes and perches herself on the armrest of one of the many sofas. “Please. I may have some pretty diabolical and wicked schemes to get what I want, but I’m not petty enough to ruin a friendship over my sister yelling at me or for some mindless entertainment. I gave you my information to do with it as you please, and you chose to make your best friend mad at you. Not my fault.” She shrugs and crosses her legs looking completely unsympathetic to Harry.

“You really believe that Snape isn’t the one helping Voldemort?” Harry asks, his anger completely evaporating from him.

“One, don’t call him that, two, yes, I really do believe that Snape is innocent. I’m going to tell you something that you can’t ever mention again, got it?”

Harry furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Uh, yeah.”

“Snape used to be a Death Eater. Way back when the Dark Lord was in power. Towards the end of the Dark Lord’s reign, Snape switched sides and started working for Dumbledore as an informant. This was all revealed after you caused the Dark Lord’s fall and all the Death Eaters started going on trial. Obviously, Snape was cleared of his charges due to Dumbledore’s appraisal, but if the Dark Lord really was trying to come back, he’d be furious with Snape. There’s no way he’d just let Snape come back to him, and I honestly doubt Snape would _want_ to go back after all he’s been through. He knows what happened to the Death Eaters and he’s too smart to risk that again,” Holly explains.

Harry takes a moment to adjust to this information.

“I promise you it’s not Snape.”

“Okay,” Harry says.

“Okay?” asks Holly.

“Yeah. Okay. I believe you. I just… I don’t believe that Quirrell is capable of something like this. He’s so scared of… _everything_ ,” Harry says.

“Well, I have to agree with you on that, but it’s got to be him. He’s the only teacher that would do something like this. The others are far too devoted to the school and the students to betray them by helping the Dark Lord, and he’s only been here for this year, so it’s a perfect cover. Come in as the new D.A.D.A. teacher and then steal the Stone. It’s perfect, really,” Holly says.

“Wait, this is his first year here?” Harry asks, confused.

Holly nods. “We get a new D.A.D.A. teacher every year. There’s a rumor that the position is cursed.”

“That really is perfect, then!” Harry exclaims. “He wouldn’t have to worry about coming back after it’s stolen because no one ever comes back anyways!”

“Exactly. Now, how about you go back up to the Great Hall and tell Draco about this revelation you’ve just had. No need to credit me, I work for free,” Holly says with a smile and Harry nods then rushes back upstairs to find Draco, running into him in the middle of the Entrance Hall.

“It’s not Snape,” Harry says, but Draco only looks at him with a hint of fear in his eyes. “It’s not him! You were right, I’m sorry, talk to me again?”

“Uh…” Draco says, backing away from Harry a step. “Okay, glad you came to your senses, but you’re acting a bit, uh, crazy, and it’s kinda scaring me.”

“Right, sorry.” Harry takes a moment to gather himself and calm down, then they start walking back to their dormitory together. “It’s Quirrell, though. It has to be. I, uh, overheard some upper years talking about how they wondered who our D.A.D.A. professor will be next year, and I was confused because Quirrell’s here, so I asked them about it and they said that not a single D.A.D.A. professor has lasted more than a year. It’s the perfect cover to steal it!”

“That’s actually some pretty good logic you’ve got going there,” Draco replies. “So, does this mean you trust Snape now?”

Harry laughs. “Not even close. I’ll never trust him. I’m just saying that this specific thing isn’t him.”

“Why do you still not trust him?” Draco asks exasperatedly.

“Just a feeling I have,” Harry says with a shrug, not wanting to reveal what Holly had told him about Snape being a Death Eater.

~*~

The weeks go by without anything happening to the Stone and without Voldemort bursting into the castle, back in his former glory, and trying to kill Harry.

Exams start, and Harry momentarily stops in his worrying about the Stone to study, however, as soon as his last exam—History of Magic—is over, he can’t stop thinking about it.

“Come on, Harry, stop concentrating so hard. Exams are over!” Ron says as the first year Slytherins plus Ron and Hermione walk across the grounds enjoying the fresh air.

“I know, I’m just thinking about…” he looks around at the few who aren’t in on the Stone then drops his voice. “I’m thinking about the Stone.”

“Harry, it’s perfectly safe. Quirrell can’t get past Fluffy, I promise you,” Draco says.

“But he can!” Harry says. “Didn’t you hear Holly? She’s heard music coming from Fluffy’s room before when Quirrell was in there!”

“The obviously there’s something else in the way that he can’t get past, otherwise he’d have it and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” Hermione says.

Harry sighs, defeated. “Oh, fine. Can we at least check with Dumbledore and tell him what we know? Maybe he can add some more precautions or move it to someplace else.”

“Yeah, that’s actually not a bad idea,” Hermione agrees. “Let’s go.”

So, the four friends break off from the group after a quick word from Draco to Pansy, Blaise, Theo, Greg, and Vince on where they are going, and they head back inside to find Dumbledore. Instead, all they can find is Professor McGonagall.

“Professor McGonagall!” Harry shouts down the hall, which earns him a reproachful look from the professor. “Professor McGonagall, do you know where Professor Dumbledore is? We need to speak with him, please.”

“I’m sorry, Potter, but Professor Dumbledore isn’t here at the moment. He got an urgent message from the Ministry of Magic and is on his way to London as we speak,” McGonagall says, which causes the four friends to exchange worried looks. “What is it that’s so important? I can take a message for him.”

“Professor, we’re worried about the Philosopher’s Stone. We think… we think Professor Quirrell is trying to steal it, and with Dumbledore gone…” Harry says.

McGonagall looks down her nose at them, and she must see something in their worry, because she says, “Very well. I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but I promise you it is safe. I don’t believe Professor Quirrell would try to steal it, he is one of the teachers protecting it after all, but I will owl Professor Dumbledore with your concerns as soon as I get the chance. You’ll have to understand that I am extremely busy.”

“Please, Professor,” Harry tries.

“I’m sorry, Potter. My hands are tied. Now, how about you go outside and enjoy the lovely weather, and leave worrying over the Stone to the staff,” McGonagall says, and they start walking back outside.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Harry says as soon as he knows they are out of earshot. “With Dumbledore gone, Quirrell will surely try to steal the Stone. We have to protect it. Tonight, we go to the third-floor corridor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I don’t have much to say for this chapter other than the line where it says “With that, Draco stands up, picks up all of his things, and goes off to bed angrily.” originally had a typo in it so Draco was picking up his “thongs” and I just thought I’d share that with you. Luckily I caught it and fixed it, but there might be some other typos that I hadn’t caught, so let me know if you see any.
> 
> Only three more chapters until the end of this book and the start of book 2, are you excited? I know I am. As much as I love writing this book, I’m eager for the end so I can start working on their second year.
> 
> Let me know what your favorite part of this chapter was! I love hearing your thoughts and replying to you comments, so please comment! It makes me happy to hear from you all!
> 
> Please leave kudos, I appreciate everyone who does, and remember to subscribe to get notifications when I update next!
> 
> Chapter 17 is scheduled to come out March 24, so keep an eye out for it!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading!  
> -2MusicLover2


	17. Devil’s Snare Hates Sunlight

That night when Harry and Draco start getting ready to go to the third-floor corridor, Blaise narrows his eyes at them in suspicion.

“Where’re you off to?” he asks them, drawing the attention of the rest of the boys in the room.

“Third-floor,” Draco answers. “Can’t let Quirrell steal the Stone to give to the Dark Lord.”

Theo chokes on the glass of water he was drinking and Blaise pats him gently on the back.

“I’m sorry, what?” Greg asks, bewildered.

“Quirrell wants to steal the Stone to give to Voldemort so he can rise again,” Harry explains.

“Yes, now stop asking questions so we can go protect it,” Draco says.

Blaise grimaces. “How very… Gryffindor of you.”

“Yes, well, shut up,” Draco says, and he and Harry pull the cloak over themselves then walk out of the room. “How are we meeting Granger and Weasley?”

“Same as last time,” Harry answers as the walk up the many flights of stairs to Gryffindor Tower where Hermione and Ron are waiting for them.

“I had to cast _immobulus_ on poor Neville,” Hermione says as she and Ron slip under the cloak. “He was trying to stop us from going with you and losing Gryffindor even more house points, we’ve been in fourth place practically all year.”

“There’s no ‘practically’ about it. we _have_ been in fourth place _all_ year,” Ron complains.

By some miracle, they make it all the way to the third-floor corridor without running into Filch, Mrs. Norris, or any other staff members, and they don’t even have to cast _alohamora_ to get into Fluffy’s room. Perhaps the fact that the door is already unlocked is bad, though, as is the fact that the radio in the corner of the room is playing soft piano music.

“Quirrell’s already been here,” Harry whispers so as not to wake Fluffy and he throws the cloak off of them.

“That doesn’t mean he’s already got the Stone, though,” Hermione says as she quickly moves to the trapdoor and opens it. “I can’t see anything down there.”

“Throw something then,” Draco says. “Here, take this textbook, I’m sure Holly won’t miss it.”

“I don’t know, it looks important,” says Hermione cautiously.

Draco rolls his eyes. “More important than our lives?” He then takes out his wand and casts Hermione’s favorite spell for portable flames, which catches the book on fire, causing Hermione to let out a shriek of horror as he drops the book.

Fluffy grunts awake, drool dripping from one of his heads and onto Harry, who panics and pushes his friends through the trapdoor before jumping himself, all of them screaming as they fall for what feels like forever. They finally land on top of something soft and oddly squishy. Strangely enough, Harry sees the flaming book still burning, the plant keeping it’s distance from the firelight, and he can faintly see the outline of his friends thanks to the small amount of light coming from the pinprick that is the trapdoor above them.

“That was close,” Ron says. “Real lucky this plant thing’s here.”

“This must be Professor Sprout’s obstacle,” Draco says. “What is it? Granger, you’re smart. Do you know?”

As Hermione thinks, Harry narrows his eyes at the plant, which has started to wrap its long tentacle-like roots around each of the four students. He panics, and tries to stand to get away, but it only speeds up and wraps itself around him tighter.

“It’s trying to kill us!” he says, struggling to get it off of him.

“Devil’s Snare!” Draco shouts. “It’s Devil’s Snare!”

“How do we kill it?” Ron asks, panicking the most out of all of them as he twists and flails, trying to keep the plant away from him to no avail.

Hermione gasps. “The book! Devil’s Snare hates sunlight, that’s why it’s staying away from the book!”

“I don’t care about the logic or whatever, just get it away from us!” Draco says.

“ _Lumos Maxima_!” Hermione casts, and a blinding light bursts from the tip of her wand, making the plant shrivel away from them all as if in fright.

They all scramble to stand and get away from the plant.

“Come on, this way,” Harry says once they have caught their breath, and he points at the only way onwards, a narrow stone passageway that slopes downwards, deeper underneath the school.

A soft rustling and clinking noise confuses them as they go on down the passage.

“What is it?” Ron asks.

Harry shrugs. “I can kind of see something… it looks like… birds.”

Sure enough, the passage opens into a high-ceilinged room in which probably a hundred brightly colored birds flutter around towards the ceiling. The only other things in the room is a rack of brooms and a door on the other side.

“Hang on,” Draco says. “Those aren’t birds. Look. They’re keys.”

Sure enough, with a closer look Harry could see that the body of each ‘bird’ was actually a key with wings sprouting out of it.

“This must be Flitwick’s room. He must have charmed to keys to fly,” says Hermione.

“I bet one of them opens that door. We have to catch it,” Harry says. “The only question is which one.”

Ron steps forward into the room, half expecting something to happen to him, and when it doesn’t, he walks towards the door to examine it.

“It’ll be big and old-fashioned,” he finally declares. “Probably silver—like the handle.”

They each nod and grab a broom, flying right into the swarm of keys, but they have difficulty even finding the right one as all of the keys dive at them and dart away from them whenever the get too close. It’s Harry who finally finds the right key and catches it, but not until after Ron crashes into the wall and nearly falls off his broom.

Harry lands and shoves the key into the lock, quickly opening the door and ushering his friends through before going through himself and shutting it behind him.

On the other side of the door is a room filled with statues, which, at first, Harry thinks are gravestones. Upon closer inspection however, and by looking at the floor, Harry realizes that they are actually life-sized chess pieces on a chessboard.

Draco tried to cross the room, but some of the chess pieces spring to life and block his path, causing him to jump and let out a squeal of terror.

“How are we supposed to get across then?” he shouts at the pieces angrily once he has managed to calm down.

The chess pieces don’t answer, although Harry doesn’t think Draco actually expected one.

“I think…” Ron says. “Are we supposed to play to get across?” he asks a chess piece, and it nods at him. “Okay then… um… this is going to be a bit dangerous, I think, but then again what have we done tonight that _isn’t_ dangerous. Uh… do you mind if I make all of the calls? It’s just, I’m probably the best out of chess between the four of us.”

“Go right ahead,” Harry says, knowing full well what Ron’s abilities are. He had never seen Ron lose a chess match.

“Okay, um, Harry, you take the place of that bishop. Hermione take the rook, there. Draco, you can be that pawn. I’ll take this knight,” Ron says, and all of the indicated pieces leave to board for the students to take their places. “Okay, white goes first…”

As soon as everyone is in their spot, one of the white pawns move forward, starting the game.

Harry soon realizes that this game of chess is exactly like standard wizard’s chess, especially the brutality of it. Every time a piece is taken, it is shattered into bits by the piece taking its place. Very quickly, the edges of the room are scattered in debris.

“Weasley, it’s not worth it,” Draco warns suddenly. Harry hadn’t been paying attention, but he looks at Ron to see a calculating look on his face as his eyes flit across the room, and then to Draco who looks genuinely concerned.

“It’s the only way we can win, though,” Ron says.

“What’s not worth it?” Harry asks.

“He’s going to sacrifice himself,” Draco replies, clearly unhappy with this.

“Ron, you can’t!” Hermione says.

“It’s the only way!” Ron argues back. “Look, I sacrifice myself so the Queen to take me, then Harry is free to take the King. Please, just trust me on this. Otherwise, we lose and it’s all for nothing.” Then, without warning, he moves across the board to his planned space.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut as the Queen moves toward his friend, not wanting to witness the damage. Only when he hears Draco shouting at Hermione to stay in her place does he open his eyes to see Ron laying on the ground, unconscious.

After a moment of looking at Ron, he tears his eyes away to face the King, then steps forward until he can officially declare “Checkmate.”

The White King takes off his crown and throws it at Harry’s feet. Hermione immediately rushes to Ron’s side.

“I’ll take him up to Madam Pomfrey,” she says. “You two go on.”

“Hermione, we’re going to need all the help we can get,” Harry counters, urging her to go with him and Draco.

“Harry’s right, Granger. You should come with us. He’ll be okay here,” Draco says, his voice soft and comforting.

“No, he needs help. You’ll both be fine, Draco’s just as smart as I am. Just—be careful. Both of you.”

Harry sighs, knowing they won’t get anywhere with Hermione, and motions to Draco to come with him, onwards into the next room, in which a troll lies unconscious on the floor.

“Glad we didn’t have to face one of those again,” Harry says.

The next room is simple. All that is inside it is a table with seven differently shaped bottles and a piece of parchment, but as soon as they step through the doorway, purple flames erupt behind them and black flames erupt in the doorway leading onwards.

Draco picks up the parchment and reads it to Harry.

“‘ _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side; Second, different are those who stand at either end, But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend; Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._ ’”

Harry looks at the bottles and then Draco in confusion.

“It’s a logic puzzle. Must be Snape’s, they’re his favorite,” Draco says. “I’m not that good, though. See, this is exactly what we needed Hermione for.”

“Well, let’s just go and get her, then,” Harry says, motioning towards the purple flames.

“Sarcasm will not help,” Draco says. “Luckily, while I’m not good at logic puzzles, I’m brilliant at Potions. With that and a few minutes to think this through, I think I can figure it out.”

Harry stands, growing ever more impatient as Draco opens each bottle and looks at its contents, sometimes smelling them, until, finally, Draco announces that he thinks he knows the solution.

“What is it, then?” Harry asks, and Draco rolls his eyes and picks up two bottles.

“You drink this one,” he says, handing Harry a bottle. “And I’ll drink this one. You’ll go on to meet Quirrell and I’ll go back to help Hermione with Ron and to send a letter to Dumbledore, just in case McGonagall hasn’t yet.”

Harry eyes his bottle suspiciously, a rounded one with just enough for him to take a single drink. “Are you sure?”

“Not entirely, but I do know that if one of us has a poison then the other doesn’t, which means that we can hopefully get back up to Madam Pomfrey for a cure,” Draco says. “Maybe. Who knows, let’s just live in the moment.” He then takes a large swig from his bottle, and, when he doesn’t drop dead after a few minutes, Harry sighs in relief. “Okay, since this one was right, that one is definitely right. I guess I’ll see you at the end of this. Good luck,” and with that, he steps through the purple flames, completely unharmed.

Harry takes a deep breath, drinks his potion in a single gulp, and steps through the black flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Sorry this is up so late in the day, I have an audition tomorrow at 9am over a video call (cuz my state is closed, so rip to my family who will all be trying to sleep while I’m having to play trombone to get the moneys) so I’ve been practicing all day cuz I thought it was cancelled and then all of a sudden I got an email last night from the dude saying that it was gonna be over a video call instead, so wish me lots of luck!
> 
> I would also like you to know that I wrote this whole thing while taking a break to drink some cherry kool-aid, eat some gummy bears, and listen to Lady Gaga and Superfruit, neither of which fit this story at all, but whatever. For some reason that’s what my brain has been craving as an inspiration playlist.
> 
> Only two more chapters left and then we start book 2, and I wanna know what you are most looking forward to in these hooligans second year! So leave a comment to let me know this, what your favorite thing in this chapter was, what your least favorite thing in this chapter was, or just whatever else you would like me to know, because I read and reply to all comments, I love hearing from all of you!
> 
> Please, don’t forget to leave kudos, I really appreciate it when you do and it makes me so happy to know that I’m doing something right :)
> 
> Don’t forget to subscribe to be notified at whatever time of day I post the next chapter, which will be out on March 26!
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!  
> 2MusicLover2


	18. The Mirror of Erised

The final chamber is a large room furnished with nothing but a single mirror, in front of which stands Professor Quirrell. Upon closer inspection, Harry sees that the mirror is the Mirror of Erised, but the closer he steps, the more his scar starts hurting, until the annoying twinge turns into a burning pain.

“Finally, you’ve made it,” Quirrell says without turning around, his stutter vacant from his voice.

“You’ve been expecting me?” Harry asks, taken aback by this statement.

“How could I not? You and your little friends have been sneering at me and avoiding me for the past week. I knew you had found me out and as soon as I saw you all running to McGonagall wanting to speak with Dumbledore and she told you he was gone… oh, I knew it was tonight that I had to come down here, and I knew you would try to stop me,” Quirrell says.

Harry gives the man a sneer that Draco would have been proud of if he were there to see it. “Dumbledore is on his way back to the castle as we speak. You won’t get away with this.”

“Silly boy, Dumbledore is no match for the Dark Lord, whose power lies with me. Nothing can stop me once I get my hands on that stone.”

“You won’t get the Stone, I won’t let you,” Harry says, stepping closer and holding his wand out towards Quirrell.

“ _Let me see him_ ,” a high, cold voice says. Harry doesn’t know where it’s coming from as it seems to echo throughout the room, but he thinks it might be the mirror as Quirrell seems to address it when he speaks next.

“Master, you are not strong enough yet.”

“ _Let me speak to him. The boy can bring us the Stone,_ ” the voice says.

“I will not!” Harry shouts, but Quirrell pays no mind as he starts to unravel the headdress that has been adorning his head since the first time Harry met him. Fred and George had always said it was filled with garlic to keep away a nasty vampire he had once met, and Harry had believed them due to the foul odor that always seems to be emanating from it. Now, however, Harry believes there is something else that Quirrell is hiding underneath the cloth, but not could have prepared Harry for this.

On the back of Quirrell’s head is a face, a horribly disfigured and snake-like face that would no doubt fill Harry’s nightmares for a while afterwards.

“ _Harry Potter_ ,” the face hisses once it is completely uncovered. “ _I’ve been waiting to meet you. We were so unpleasantly interrupted in the Forest_.”

Harry startles at this. He’s finally put it all together. That was Voldemort he saw drinking the unicorn’s blood, just like this is whatever remains of Voldemort now.

“ _Come, Harry. There’s no reason to be scared. We want the same things… we can have them if only you help me_ ,” Voldemort says.

“I’m not scared,” Harry says defiantly. “And we don’t want the same things. I’ll never join you.”

Something akin to a smile mars Voldemort’s already disfigured face, and Harry has to fight the urge to vomit from the pain of his scar and horror he is facing.

“ _Now, now, Harry… that’s no way to talk to the Dark Lord. I can help you get everything you’ve ever wanted. I can bring you power and followers… I can bring you immortality… I can bring you back your parents…_ ”

“My—my parents?” Harry stutters, lowering his wand slightly, before raising it again, realizing who he is talking to. Voldemort is probably just tricking him. He just wants the Stone, and Harry can’t let him get it. Voldemort wouldn’t bring him any of those things, he wants Harry dead.

“ _That’s right… I can bring them back to you…_ ” Voldemort says, and, suddenly, apparitions of his parents, just as he had seen in the Mirror what feels to Harry like years ago, appear next to Quirrell and the Mirror. “ _You can have them, and all I need from you is the Philosopher’s Stone_.”

“I won’t give it to you!” Harry says. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I don’t have it and I don’t know where it is.”

“ _Liar_!” Voldemort screeches and the apparitions disappear. “ _Look in the Mirror, tell me what you see_.”

Quirrell quickly turns to face Harry and grabs him before Harry has any time to react, forcing him to stand in front of the Mirror.

At first, Harry is confused. All he sees is his own reflection staring back at him, the ghosts of his parents nowhere to be seen. But then, his reflection winks at him and looks down at his pocket where pulls out an amber-colored stone, about the size of his fist. The Philosopher’s Stone.

When his reflection puts the Stone back in his pocket, Harry feels a sudden weight in his own, and knows that somehow, it has magically appeared there.

“ _What do you see_?” Voldemort demands and Harry has to force himself to not jump in fright.

“I—I, uh, I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore,” he says, deciding to go with part of Ron’s vision in the Mirror as his lie. “I’ve won the House Cup for Slytherin.”

“ _Lies… I can tell when you’re lying to me, Harry…. Where is the Stone_?” Voldemort asks.

“I don’t know! I just see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore!” Harry says, refusing to give up on his lie, even going so far as wishing it were true in the hopes that the Mirror would start displaying this image for him.

“ _You know where it is…_ ” Voldemort says, then his voice turns even colder and more demanding “ _Check his pocket_!”

Quirrell lunges at Harry, but he dodges it as he runs to the side, causing Quirrell to slam into the Mirror and shatter it. Harry aims his wand at Quirrell and, unable to think of any proper curses, shouts “ _Petrificus totalus_!”

Quirrell falls face first onto the ground, and Harry stands there, unsure of what to do now. He can’t just leave Quirrell here, what if the jinx wears off and he escapes? He also isn’t too fond of the idea of staying here with Quirrell/Voldemort and just waiting either for Dumbledore to come or for the jinx to wear off, whichever comes first.

Before he decides, however, there are shouts of his name behind him, and he turns around to see the black flames extinguish and Dumbledore bursting through where they had been only moments before.

“Harry! Are you okay, dear boy?” Dumbledore asks, sounding worried and out-of-breath.

“Yeah, I didn’t let him get the Stone, look. I have it right here,” Harry says, pulling it out of his pocket to show the professor.

“Put it away,” Dumbledore says hurriedly. “It is not safe yet. Quickly, go back through the chambers, use one of the brooms in the room of the winged keys to fly back upstairs. Your friends are waiting to take you to the Hospital Wing.”

“Professor, I—”

“Please, Harry. I will handle this.”

Harry follows Dumbledore’s orders despite every bone in his body telling him not to.

Sure enough, when he flies back up through the trapdoor, Hermione and Draco are there, looking worried as the radio plays in the background keeping Fluffy asleep.

“He running upstairs as soon as I left Fluffy’s room,” Draco says as he and Hermione envelope Harry in a crushing hug. “He took one look at me and said ‘Harry’ then told me to wait here. Hermione just joined me a few moments ago.”

“Dumbledore’s dealing with Quirrell right now,” Harry says. “He had—he had Voldemort’s face on the back of his head.”

“Quirrell did? Oh, Harry, are you okay? Do we need to take you to the Hospital Wing?” Hermione asks, then she pulls back to look at him. “You’re covered in cuts and bruises! Come on, Madam Pomfrey can fix you up in no time.”

“How’s Ron?” Harry asks, the mention of Madam Pomfrey bringing back the memory of his friend lying unconscious on the chess board.

“He’s fine, already awake again,” Hermione answers.

“You look like you need some rest though,” Draco says. “Are you sure you can walk fine on your own?”

Harry nods. “Yes, just tired is all. Seeing Voldemort was…”

He trails off, not able to find any words to properly describe it but knowing his friends can fill in the blanks on their own.

They walk the rest of the way to the Hospital Wing in silence, until they step through the doors and Madam Pomfrey is immediately fretting over Harry and telling him how stupid it was for them all to try and stop Quirrell like that while at the same time talking about how stupid it was for Dumbledore to bring the Stone to the school, putting them in that kind of danger in the first place.

As soon as Madam Pomfrey has deemed Harry healed, she demands that Hermione get back into her own bed, as apparently she had snuck out of the Hospital Wing to find Harry, and then she sets in on healing Draco’s minor wounds.

Just as she is finishing up healing Draco, Professor Dumbledore steps through the doors, causing Madam Pomfrey to look up and then start scolding him.

“Poppy, I understand your concerns,” Dumbledore says at last when Madam Pomfrey stops in her rants to take a breath. “Which is why I will be contacting Nicolas and discussing with him the fate of the Philosopher’s Stone. I am going to suggest that it is destroyed, to prevent anyone else from trying to steal it.”

“But, won’t Nicolas and his wife die?” Harry asks, moving his hand to clutch the Stone in his pocket, as if that would protect it from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighs. “Yes, but they have both lived incredible lives and I am sure they will both be ready for it. After all, death is only like going to sleep at the end of a very long day.”

“Say that for yourself!” Draco says. “You can’t just decide for them that they’re ready to die!”

“As I said, Draco, I am not deciding this, I will merely be suggesting it,” Dumbledore says, seemingly unfazed by the outburst.

“I want to be there. When you talk to Nicolas,” Harry says. He trusts Dumbledore, but he still wants to make sure for himself that destroying the Stone will be the choice of the Flamels.

“Us too,” Draco says, indicating himself, Ron, and Hermione.

“Very well,” Dumbledore says. “Tomorrow then. Now, get some rest. All of you.”

~*~

Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel look far from being centuries old, Harry notes when they walk into the Hospital Wing the next morning. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that Dumbledore introduces them as they walk in, Harry would have just thought they were a couple of Seventh Years that he hadn’t really seen around the castle much.

“You must be Harry Potter,” Nicolas says, his eyes flitting up to Harry’s forehead as he extends his hand for Harry to shake.

“Yes. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Flamel,” Harry says, shaking his hand, and then taking Perenelle’s hand and kissing it as he had seen Draco do many times over Holidays. “You as well, Madam Flamel.”

“Please, call me Perenelle,” she says, smiling daintily and throwing her long auburn-brown hair over her shoulder then turning to the rest of Harry’s friends. “I believe you three are also to thank for protecting our Stone?”

The couple walks between the beds, individually greeting each Ron, Draco, and Hermione, before they take a seat on the bed next to Hermione’s and look at Dumbledore.

“As thankful as I am for all of you, I do not believe thanking you was what our dear Albus had in mind when he asked us to come,” Nicolas says.

“You would be right in thinking that, yes,” says Dumbledore, but he doesn’t say any more.

“Get on with it, then. Just because we have an eternity ahead of us does not mean we wish to sit here all day, wondering what it is you’re going to tell us,” Perenelle says, a strange twinkle in her eye.

“That’s actually what I wanted to discuss,” Dumbledore says. “See, I think it is… wisest… if the Philosopher’s Stone were to be destroyed. It would certainly prevent other occurrences such as this one from happening.”

“Say no more, Albus,” Nicolas says. “Where is the Stone? I can destroy it right now.”

Harry trembles slightly as he holds it out towards Nicolas. He didn’t expect him to agree so easily, but if it what he wants and thinks is best, then he is willing to comply.

Nicolas takes the Stone from Harry’s hand and pulls his wand out of a pocket. He utters an incantation which Harry can’t understand but it sounds like some kind of beautiful song, and Harry watches as the Philosopher’s Stone turns into dust before his eyes.

“There,” Nicolas says. “Perenelle and I still have enough Elixir to set all of our affairs in order, but there will be no more. The Philosopher’s Stone is destroyed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Just one chapter left, which will be posted on March 29, so make sure to subscribe so you can be notified when I post it!
> 
> What are you looking forward to most in book 2? I enjoy getting comments from you all, and I reply to all of them, so please be sure to comment and also leave kudos!
> 
> I don’t have anything else to say today, so I hope you enjoyed reading!  
> -2MusicLover2


	19. The End-of-Term Feast

Harry spends the rest of his first year at Hogwarts in disbelief. First, it’s disbelief at the fact that Nicolas so willingly destroyed the Philosopher’s Stone, which Draco is less disbelieving and more suspicious of this fact. He and Ron spend the rest of the day sitting in the Great Hall making conspiracy theories while Harry retells the story of how they saved the Stone from Quirrell over and over until the entire school is buzzing about it.

“At least they all heard it from you,” Hermione says. “This way no rumors can get started.”

The rumors still spread, however, and Harry enjoys laughing at the more absurd ones like the reason Quirrell was so good with trolls was because Voldemort was half-troll and all he had to do to talk to them was take off his turban and have Voldemort talk for him.

Holly takes pleasure in these rumors, and decides to start a few of her own, but the one she spends the most time spreading is the one where Snape and Quirrell were dating and trying to get the Stone together, but Snape broke up with Quirrell when he saw the Dark Lord on the back of Quirrell’s head. Snape gives her a detention every day for the next year for this one, but she says it is totally worth it.

Harry’s disbelief over the year only rises when Dumbledore calls him, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and—oddly enough—Neville Longbottom into his office the morning of the End-of-Term Feast.

“You all did something very noble and heroic the other night when you went to the third-floor corridor to protect the Philosopher’s Stone from Quirrell and Voldemort,” Dumbledore says to them. “And, while you did break a few school rules in the process, it is my belief that you have each earned your houses a few points.”

Neville pauses in his looking around Dumbledore’s office at all of the strange trinkets to give the old man a confused and slightly scared look.

“I—I don’t deserve any house points,” Neville says, shaking his head with wide eyes. “I didn’t help them, I only tried to stop them.”

“Exactly,” Dumbledore says with a smile and a nod. “It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to one’s enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to friends. Therefore, I think you should receive no less than ten points for Gryffindor.”

Neville’s mouth drops open in shock and he looks about ready to protest, but Ron hisses “Take the points Neville, we need all we can get,” which causes Dumbledore to smile.

“Ron,” Dumbledore says, and Ron looks torn between being afraid he is about to be scolded and being excited about getting points for his house. “For the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has ever seen, I award Gryffindor fifty points.”

Ron looks ready to faint. He didn’t think it was possible to earn fifty points at one time until now.

“And for Hermione, who decided to stay behind and help an injured friend, I award Gryffindor fifty points,” says Dumbledore. “Now, I believe Gryffindor is in third place with four-hundred and eight points.”

Ron, Hermione, and Neville cheer, glad to not be so far behind in points anymore, while Harry and Draco stand there awkwardly, staring at the large red bird on its perch.

“Draco,” Dumbledore says, catching his and Harry’s attention again. “For using your knowledge in Potions to help you in a test of logic, you have earned Slytherin fifty points.”

Draco looks to Harry as though he is about to explode with excitement. They only needed seven points to pass Ravenclaw and win the House Cup, and Draco earned them fifty!

“And, last but not least, Harry, for pure nerve, outstanding courage, and the determination to do the right thing, I award Slytherin house sixty points,” Dumbledore says, and Draco practically _does_ explode at this, shouting out in pure joy and jumping up and down as he pulls Harry into a crushing hug.

“We’ve won! We’ve won Slytherin the House Cup!” Draco yells into Harry’s ear, but Harry can’t really be bothered because he is just as excited as their friends and Dumbledore watch their celebrations.

“Now,” Dumbledore says once Draco and Harry have calmed down, “go start packing before the feast tonight. Tomorrow, you go home.”

~*~

For the rest of the day, students frantically start spreading even more rumors, this time about the sudden change in house points, until finally the story finally gets out that Dumbledore gave points to everyone involved in the events regarding the Philosopher’s Stone. From that point on, Slytherins keep congratulating Draco and Harry on earning back the House Cup, and they enter the Great Hall surrounded by a group of adoring fans—Harry can’t even think of anything else to call them than that—to see the banners of green and silver decorating the hall, celebrating their victory.

“And you were mocking us for wanting to stop Quirrell, Blaise. We’ve won back the House Cup!” Draco says as they all sit down at the Slytherin table together.

Harry smiles at Ron and Hermione across the Great Hall where they too are having people congratulate them on earning enough points to get out of fourth place.

“At last, another year has come to pass,” Dumbledore announces as soon as everyone has taken their seat, causing the hall to fall mostly silent so everyone can listen to his speech. “As I’m sure you have all heard by now, I have awarded a few points owing to recent events, which caused the points to stand thus: in fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; in third place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and ninety-six; in second, Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty-six; which leaves Slytherin the winners with five hundred and thirty points. Congratulations, Slytherin, on winning the House Cup for the eighth year standing!”

Harry and the rest of the Slytherins all start cheering. Harry and Draco are almost instantly crushed in the crowd of Slytherins that swarms around them, congratulating them on winning the cup back and keeping their streak. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever felt happier in his life.

~*~

The first year Slytherins all ride in one of the magical carriages down to the train station in Hogsmeade together, joking and laughing and promising to write to one another. Just before he gets on the train, however, Harry spots Hagrid waving to him from where he just arrived in the fleet of boats with the seventh years.

“One minute, I’m going to say goodbye to Hagrid,” Harry tells Draco, who nods and replies that he’ll save Harry a seat.

“Though’ yeh were gonna leave withou’ sayin’ goodbye, did yeh?” Hagrid asks as Harry runs up to him.

“Never,” Harry says, smiling at the first friend he made in the wizarding world.

“I ‘ave somethin’ for yeh,” Hagrid says, digging in his giant pockets and ultimately pulling out a book which Harry opens to see it is filled with moving pictures of his parents at Hogwarts, with their friends, and some even after they had left Hogwarts. He’s delighted to see that there are even a couple of pictures with him in them as a baby.

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Harry says, wiping the tears from his eyes and wrapping his arms around the large man as best as he can.

“Anytime, ‘Arry. Anytime,” Hagrid says. “Now, yeh bes’ be off, train’ll be leavin’ soon. But don’ forge’ teh write.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Harry says, giving Hagrid one last hug before he rushes onto the train, quickly finding the compartment that the Slytherin first years have claimed to themselves, Hermione and Ron squishing in with them and they spend the entirety of the train ride reminiscing about their year as they snack on an assortment of sweets.

“You should come over sometime this summer, Harry,” Ron says when they arrive at King’s Cross Station at last. “You too, Hermione.”

“Definitely,” Harry says.

“Write, at least every week,” Hermione demands, looking warily at Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley.

“If you don’t, I’ll assume the worst,” Draco says, sneering at them.

“I’ll write, promise,” Harry replies, smiling, although already feeling sad to be going back to the Dursleys’ and away from Hogwarts.

He doesn’t feel like he’s going home at last, more like he’s leaving it, and all he can do is look forward to the letters from his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Book 1 is officially finished! I’m a bit sad that it’s over but also excited to start on book 2, which I will start posting on March 31, continuing on the schedule I already have of Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday updates.
> 
> For anyone interested, as soon as this chapter is posted I will start working on a book in this series full of bonus content like the students’ class schedules and the beginnings of chapters that I rewrote, so if you’re interested then go check that out too!
> 
> I will also be going back through this book and making minor edits as I write book 2. It won’t be anything too extreme that changes the plot of the book, I’ll only be fixing spelling and grammatical errors, so if you see that I’ve updated this book it just means I’m editing it.
> 
> I want to know not only what your favorite part of this chapter was, but also your favorite part of this book, so please leave a comment! I love reading and replying to all of your comments so please do that!
> 
> Please don’t forget to leave kudos, I really appreciate them!
> 
> I hope you’ve enjoyed this book and that you’ll enjoy book 2!  
> -2MusicLover2
> 
> Edit: Book 2 is officially posted, so if you’re ready for it, go check it out!


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